The Pilgrim Soul
by Jadesfire
Summary: Rogue and Gambit get a bit more than they bargained for when Courier asks for a favour. [Sadly, this story is likely to remain unfinished until I have time to rewrite. Sorry.]
1. Monday

Have finally got this in a more manageable form – just as many words, fewer chapters!  Don't panic – it's still largely the same, but I've tightened up the bits I didn't like and shuffled it around a little.  Am hoping it reads better now.  

Please carry on R&Ring, I really appreciate it and I should have Friday done by the end of the month!

Disclaimer:  I don't own the X-men, someone else does.  Thank you for letting me play 

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**MONDAY**

****

**NEW YORK**

_What is this life if, full of care,_

_We have no time to stand and stare._

_Leisure_ by William Henry Davies

Gambit sighed as he sipped his iced tea.  The sun was setting, the music from the café was floating out over the street and all was well with the world.  He could forget about monsters and fighting and saving the world.  He could almost forget that Rogue was loose in New York with his credit card.  Almost.  But right now he could even see the humour in that at the moment.  The little café was friendly enough and watching the inhabitants of Greenwich Village go by was more than enough entertainment for the moment.

Feeling a familiar tingle, he put down his glass and raised his hand to his face.  His fingers were glowing a little, almost imperceptible unless you were looking for it.  Then the energy dissipated and he was just left with the feeling of pins and needles.  Sighing again, he picked up his glass and took another sip.  They were going to have to do something about this soon, before he blew up more than just a table lamp.  That had been hard enough to explain.  If Rogue were to accidentally break something, it was as likely to be a wall as a glass and that would cost even more to replace.  Their powers had been flickering in and out unpredictably, which at first had seemed like a blessing – at least they weren't gone for good – but the pleasure had faded when they realised that they couldn't control what was happening and were endangering themselves and others.  Like it or not, they were back in New York for more than just the shops.  Still, there was no harm in taking another day to enjoy the peace of not being an X-man.  

Looking back at the street, Gambit spotted a familiar figure coming towards the café and groaned to himself.  Perhaps it was just a coincidence; perhaps he would get lucky; perhaps-

"Hello Gambit".  The woman was now standing in front of him, looking down with a mixture of disdain and resignation.  She wasn't tall, but her blue-black hair flowed strikingly over one shoulder and her pale blue eyes were picked up by the colour of her skirt and the small flecks on her shirt.  Say what you like about Courier, the woman knew how to dress.

"Hi, err…Jake?"  Gambit stood and gestured to the chair across the table.  The woman sniffed and sat down, her posture suggesting that she was only doing so under protest.

"I tend to use 'Jackie' now.  It saves confusion."  The glare she shot Gambit told him that Courier still hadn't forgiven him for events in the past.  And they were far in the past.  Jacob Gavin, apart from being a spoilt brat and a general pain in the neck was also a mutant, able to control each individual cell in his body and rearrange them as he wanted or needed.  When he and Gambit had gone back in time to the last century to save the Thieves' Guild and Gambit's father, Jacob had used his powers to turn himself into woman in order to infiltrate a certain Dr Essex's obstetric clinic.  Unfortunately, the good doctor, also know as Mr Sinister, had seen through the 'disguise' and Jacob had lost control over his body, turning him, in effect, to jelly.  Sinister had restored him, for a price, and had stabilised Courier's form as a woman rather than a man.  Clearly had not yet managed to regain control of himself.  Gambit was sorry for him, but it wasn't his fault.  Well, not entirely.

"Well, _Jackie_?  What can I do for you?"  Gambit kept his gaze on the street.  Whatever Courier wanted, he wasn't interested.  

"I like that!  I couldn't just have dropped by to say hello?  What a suspicious mind."  

"Only where you're concerned.  But out of all the cafés in all the world you just happened to walk past this one?"

"Gambit, if you start singing 'As Time Goes By' I'll…"

"Go away?  It might be worth it just for that."  Gambit knew he was being obnoxious even for him, but besides the fact that it was fun, he really didn't want to know what Jake wanted.  Whatever it was, it would be trouble.

Giving in, Jake looked around, caught the waiter's attention and ordered a latte.  While he was waiting he looked hard at Gambit.  Gambit, for his part, carried on sipping his drink and watching the street.  If Jake thought he was going to cave and ask what was going on, he really didn't know him.  When the coffee arrived, Jake broke his stare and stirred one sugar into it carefully, apparently fascinated by the patterns in the foam.  Just when Gambit thought he had won, Jake spoke quietly

"I need your help."

That was the sentence he'd been waiting for and was about to reply when Jake kept going.

"It's not me.  It's my cousin, Louisa.  She's gone missing.  My father's used all his resources and contacts and still can't find her, which means she's _really_ missing.  We've tried everything.  Except asking for help.  Which I'm doing now."  The brief speech was spoken almost entirely to his coffee.  Gambit looked over and could see how much pride the short sentences had cost.  Gently he said

"Why come t'me?  I'm a thief not a private eye."

"You're also an X-man.  You guys have got all kinds of complicated doohickies that I bet could find a mutant on the other side of the planet if you wanted."

Gambit smiled to himself.  He'd have to try doohickey on Hank next time he visited the lab.  "What makes you think they'll help?"

'Jackie' looked surprised.  "I thought it was what you did.  You know, saved helpless mutants from the arms of their oppressors, or something like that."

"She a mutant then, this cousin o'yours?"

"Well, duh, why else come to you guys?  Look," Jake leaned across the table, his face strangely serious. "Louisa's the closest thing I've got to a sister, OK?  She's been missing for four months already and no-one, and I mean _no-one_, can find her.  I figure you've got a gift for this kind of thing and a soft spot for ladies in distress.  Especially ones that could blow the lot of us to Kingdom Come if she ever figured out the physics."

Gambit was struck by the absolute sincerity in his friend's voice.  Man or woman, he'd never heard it hold such intensity.  Something had got him really worried.  Some of the words clicked into place as he re-ran them in his head.

"Blow us all up, eh?  Mon ami, you are talking to de expert.  If she's such a helpless _femme_, how she gonna do us all such damage, eh?"  

Jake looked him straight in the eye.  "Will you help me?"

Gambit weighed up what he knew.  On the one hand, he didn't trust Jake.  He (and he had to think of him as 'he') wouldn't tell him everything, would lead him into the lion's den and offer Gambit to them for dinner in return for his own safety.  But on the other hand, he'd never seen him so serious and he was clearly finding it difficult to ask for Gambit's help.  All in all, things were just about balanced.

"Hey, sugah.  You still with us?"

While he'd been turning all this over in his mind, he'd completely missed Rogue's arrival.  She was standing on the sidewalk, looking thoughtfully at him.  Shopping bags spilled around her feet and her hair was definitely….ruffled.  Gambit dreaded to think what that meant for his bank account.  Recovering, he smiled his most charming smile and rose to his feet.  As he kissed her cheek gently, he felt her stiffen at his touch.  He pulled back and looked her in the eye, trying to look reassuring.  Rogue blinked and turned her head away, looking over his shoulder.

"Sorry chére.  Have a good time?"  

"Sure.  Your card caught fire, but the assistant had an extinguisher under the counter."  Although he smiled a little at the joke, her heart clearly wasn't in it.  Gambit also noticed that despite the warmth, she was wearing elbow length gloves.  Yes, they were definitely going to have to pay Dr McCoy a visit.

Clearly feeling that the touching reunion had gone on long enough, Jake coughed loudly.  Rogue seemed to come back from wherever she'd been and looked him up and down.

"Well, well.  You still not got yourself reorganised Courier?"  Her tone was back to her usual saccharine sarcasm.  Jake shifted in his seat and looked up at her.  

"I'm working on it."

Rogue grinned.

"Is he tryin' to get you in trouble again, Remy?"

"Since when have I needed help?"  Gambit grinned back at her and pulled out a seat from the table, doing his finest _maitre d' _impression as she sat down.  "And what will mademoiselle be having this afternoon.  May I recommend the iced tea, or perhaps a skinny latte?"

"Thank you, ma good man.  An iced tea would be lovely."  Rogue watched Remy closely as he ordered her drink and sat back down at the table.  She expected an explanation for Courier's presence, but instead they sat in silence, with Remy avoiding looking at either of them.  She was learning. A few months ago she might have demanded an explanation or tried to worm some kind of answer out of him.  Instead she sipped her tea and waited for him to sort out whatever was going on behind those red eyes.

"We gonna have to go up to de mansion soon, ain't we chére?"  His voice startled her, but it was quiet and firm.  There was no anger or fear, not even resignation, just a cold statement of fact.  Rogue took another sip, to think before answering.

"Ah think so.  We can't go on like this."  She tried to match his tone, but some of her frustration crept into her voice.  Courier looked up.

"You're going to help?"

"I didn't say dat.  De X-men are not some kind of rent-a-mutant service.  I'll ask, but they'll only help if they want.  I can' make them."  Rogue was a little confused, but was prepared to wait for the full story.

"Just ask them.  Please?  This is my hotel and room number.  Call me anytime."

"You gotta photo or anythin' more we can go on?"

Jake reached into his bag and produced a folder.  "It's got personal details, pictures, the whole caboodle.  And I put in some hairs from her brush.  I figure she's been gone a while and she might have changed her looks.  But she can't change her DNA."  He passed it over the table and stood up to leave.  "Thanks Gambit."

When he was sure that Courier had really gone, Gambit opened the file.  Rogue had just about reached the end of her patience.

"So who we lookin' for?"

"Girl called Louisa Gavin.  She disappeared about four months ago.  Says here she dropped her stuff off at her college dorm, told her roommate she was off to enrol or somethin' and was never seen again."

"Why'd Courier come to you?"

Gambit considered the question.  Jacob Gavin certainly wasn't short of resources and his father had to have one of the best information services on the planet.  "I t'ink", he said slowly, "he's worried.  If pére Gavin can't find her, then she really is missing.  He must figure we got resources he can't get access to."

" 'HE'?"

"Whatever."  Gambit was already flicking through the file.  "Smart kid.  Did some college courses in high school, mostly science stuff, 'specially chemistry."  He passed a picture across to rogue.

"Cute kid.  But there's something not right about this picture.  Something in her eyes…"  A memory darted across Rogue's mind and something clicked.  "She's blind".  

Gambit looked up.  "How can you tell?"

"Something in her eyes, the way she's holding her head.  It's similar to Irene" Rogue hadn't taken her eyes from the picture.  The girl in it had the same tilt to her chin and unseeing gaze that she had seen in Destiny growing up.  But this girl bore little resemblance to the woman Rogue had known.  Louisa Gavin wasn't pretty, but she was attractive in a sweet kind of way.  Her hair was blonde, falling in gentle waves round her shoulders.  The unseeing eyes were a bright blue and her petite features made her look younger than the graduation gown suggested.

Gambit put a hand on Rogue's arm.  "You ok?"

Rouge shook herself out of the memory.  "Yeah.  Just distracted for a minute.  That file say how old she is?"

"Seventeen.  She got early college entry from those extra courses.  What it don't say here is exactly what she can do."  Gambit closed the file in frustration.  "Jake said she could blow us all up 'if she ever figures out de physics'.  So what's her power?  It can't jus' be explosive or she'd be able to do that anyway.  There's somethin' more here."  Gambit closed the file decisively and put his hand on Rogue's arm.  "You ready to go home, chére?"

Rogue returned his gaze steadily.  'No' she wanted to say.  'no I'm not ready to go back to be prodded and poked in the name returning powers that I'm not even sure I want.  To give up this life we've started to build together.  To give up having you to myself.  To not be able to touch you again.' 

She knew he felt the same and that it didn't need to be said.  Whatever happened, they were both X-men and the team was important to them.  They'd had their time away, they'd found each other and now they were ready to rejoin the team together, whatever the consequences.  So she turned her arm over, pulling it down so her hand fit into his.  

The mansion had changed a lot since they had last been there.  The once pristine gates and walls bore traces of graffiti, unsuccessfully cleaned off.  The jeering crowds may have gone, but it was clear that anti-mutant feeling persisted.  Remy swung his bike to a stop by the intercom, sending up a shower of gravel.

"Show off" Rogue muttered in his ear as he turned to grin at her, white teeth just visible through the helmet.  "Jus' ring the bell, already."

It was a few seconds before a tinny voice came from the intercom's speaker.

"Hello?"

"Jean?  It's Remy an' Rogue."

"Remy?  What are you doing here?"

"Open the gates, chere and we'll tell you."

"Come on up.  And Remy?  Try not to set the students a bad example?"

Remy just grinned again and pulled the bike back. As the gates swung open, he revved the engine.

"Careful you don't hit any of his students, Remy, or Wolverine'll have your guts for garters"

"Now come on chére, would I be as careless as to hit any of them?  I'll jus' aim for a near miss."

Rogue's reply was lost as the bike roared into life and up the drive.  There didn't seem to be any danger of hitting the students, as there were none outside.

"Must all be in class" Remy muttered to himself as he slowed and stopped more sedately this time, out of respect for the figure standing in the doorway.  Standing.  Of course he'd heard of Xavier's miraculous healing, but it was still going to take some getting used to. 

"Remy.  Rogue.  It's good to see you."  Charles Xavier stepped out of the doorway, holding his hand out to his former students.

"Professor" Remy's tone was neutral.  He wasn't sure how the Professor had felt about half his team choosing to leave him and look after the rest of the world.  While things had certainly been eventful here as well, the fact remained that they had followed their own path, not his.  But there didn't seem to be any reservation in Xavier's warm smile and friendly gesture and Remy chose, for once, to take things at face value, if only for the time being. 

"How are you, Professor?"  Rogue ran up the steps and clasped his hand, as though trying to reassure herself that he was real.  He seemed much the same, but to Remy's eye there was something harder around the mouth, a sadness Xavier's eyes that hadn't been there before.  _Well_, he thought to himself_, I guess dat's what happens when your evil twin takes over your body an' screws up your life._  He watched him smile at Rogue, putting his arm around her shoulder to lead her into the house.  _Yup.__  Screws you up good 'n' proper._  Pulling the bags from the back of the bike, he followed them inside.

"Well, well, well.  The wanderers return.  How ya doin', Gumbo?"  Wolverine's smile was as friendly as he got.  And his tone for once wasn't sarcastic or aggressive.  If Gambit didn't know better he'd say there was concern in it.

"Fine, Wolvie, fine.  Y'self?"

Wolverine nodded and pulled himself out of the armchair.  "So if everything's so 'fine', whatcha doin' back here?"

Gambit put on his best 'c'mon mon ami' grin.  "Oh, you know how 'tis.  We was jus' passin' an' thought..."

"Fine, fine.  You don' wanna tell me, that's ok.  But don't tell me you're both fine.  Lie about yourself, but not Rogue.  How's she?"  Wolverine fixed him with a hard stare and Gambit dropped the grin.

"Oh, y'know."  He looked down the hall where Xavier appeared to be monopolising Rogue.  As they turned the corner out of sight, he whispered to himself, "We been better".

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Gambit was grateful to have dinner in the kitchen rather than the big dining room.  Something about it always put him on edge.  Maybe it was all the antiques lining the walls just waiting to be stolen.  Rogue had passed pleasantries with everyone all afternoon, just catching up, comparing shopping bills, gossiping with Jean and meeting some of the students.  Now, round the table, there were only old friends.  All staring at them and waiting to hear why they had come.

Gambit shifted a bit in his chair and glanced at Rogue, who returned it with a clear 'go ahead' signal.  As he was trying to find the words, Hank broke into his thoughts.

"So now we've heard all the gossip and Emma has asked about _every_ boutique in New York, I thought it might be time to actually ask a question.  How are my patients?"  Despite his radically changed appearance, he was still Doctor Hank McCoy and Gambit could see the concern in his yellow eyes.  He decided for once in his life to be completely honest.  Strange the effect Rogue could have on him.

"We was doin' ok, y'know?  Wasn' too bad a thing, really.  We was copin'.  And shoppin'.  Lots of shoppin'."

"I feel your pain, Remy" Scott put in dryly, earning a glare from Emma and a playful hit from Jean.  Gambit smiled.  It was good to be back.

"Anyways, de powers, they startin' to come back, only we don' know when, we don' know how until suddenly, boom!  No table lamp.  And a heck of a motel bill."  He smiled.  "They don' like you blowin' up their stuff, know what I mean?"  

Rogue put her hand on his arm.  "What Remy would say if his sense of humour didn't keep getting in the way, is that we need help."

"And?"  Rogue started at the Professor's voice.  He had been quiet throughout dinner, apparently content to observe the group.  Now he fixed them with a firm stare, waiting for an answer.

"Not much gets past you, does it?"  Gambit looked down at his hands, then up again.  "I been asked to do a favour for a friend.  Find someone he's lookin' for.  He's tried everyt'in' but I'm bettin' it won't take you an' Cerebro's big sis more than a minute to find her."

"She's a mutant."  It was a statement, not a question.

"Yeah.  So's m' friend.  I figure I owe him and hey, I'm always a sucker for a damsel in distress".  He pulled the file out of his coat, sliding it across the table to the professor.  "I know we gotta cheek really.  Comin' back, askin' favours, but..."

The professor held up his hand.  "You and Rogue are family Remy."  He smiled.  "You can always ask for our help and we don't always suspect your motives."

"'cept where the antiques are concerned" came a growl from down the table.

Gambit raised his hands in mock surrender.  "I swear, Wolvie, you can search me b'fore we leave" This broke the tension a little, but all eyes were on the folder in front of Xavier.  He opened it and examined the photograph and the first few pages.

"This should be enough to find her.  Did your friend say what her power was?"

"Nope, jus' somet'in' about her bein' able to blow up de world if she knew de physics."

This certainly got a reaction, from Scott's sharp jerk to the professor's raised eyebrows.  Only Hank simply looked thoughtful.

"Some kind of explosive ability, like your own perhaps?  Although it'd have to be a fairly impressive chain reaction to blow up the _whole_ world.  How far do you think he was exaggerating?"

"Don' know, but he seemed pretty serious.  And there's nothin' in de file t'say what her power is, so either her folks have no idea or they jus' don' wan' anyone else to have any."

Xavier put his hands on the table and stood, ending the conversation.  He looked down at Gambit, with what Remy recognised as his head-masterly expression.

"Rogue, Gambit, you are welcome to stay in the mansion as long as you need.  I'm sure Henry will want to examine you, but that can wait until you've had some rest.  Meantime I'll see if between us Cerebra and I can find your missing girl."  Picking up the file and nodding goodnight to everyone, he left the room.

The atmosphere relaxed a little when he was gone, like a classroom without a teacher.  Gambit glanced across and smiled tentatively at Rogue, just checking.  She smiled back, the corners of her mouth barely curving upwards but the warmth in her eyes conveying far more.  Reassured, Gambit surveyed the rest of the room.  Hank had drawn Jean and Logan into some kind of discussion, although with the good doctor you could never be sure whether it was philosophy or baseball.  Emma and Rogue were still talking clothes – didn't they ever run out of shops?  And Scott was…well, Remy felt that he was looking at him, but with Cyclops you could never really be sure.  He had that uncomfortable prickle at the back of his neck that he got when he was being watched, and with Scott's eyes always hidden behind those ruby lenses, he only had that instinct to go on.  Scott had been sitting next to the professor, almost opposite Gambit, and was now leaning back in his chair, staring into the room apparently at ease.

Gambit returned the gaze with equal calm and nonchalance, working out exactly what it was Scott was looking for.  Probably the angle.  Cyclops never really trusted anyone who had broken off from Xavier, although if current rumours were true, there was a much harder edge to Mr Summers since his reappearance.  Inevitable really and it explained his continuing attachment to the professor.  Scott knew what it was like to have someone take you over and have to cope with the aftermath.  He was certainly not the goody-goody Gambit had known, his whole air and manner told him that.  Tiring of the staring match – a game you could never beat Cyclops at anyway. Gambit decided to start the conversation.

He put his head a little to one side, questioning.

Scott shrugged.

Gambit flicked his eyes in Rogue's direction, just for a second

Scott smiled ever so slightly and nodded his head.

Gambit raised both eyebrows, again flicking his eyes, but this time down at himself.

Scott's smile became a proper smile and he nodded again.  Gambit could see the edges of his eyes crinkling and knew the smile was for real.

He returned it.  So it wasn't him, it wasn't Rogue and it wasn't him _and_ Rogue.  Maybe Scott just looked at everyone this way now.  But still…  He flicked his eyes in the direction of the door.

Scott nodded and rose, turning to touch Jean on the shoulder.  She smiled up at him and gripped his hand briefly before turning back to her conversation.

Gambit also rose and crossed over to the door, squeezing Rogue's shoulder as he passed.  She watched him leave with Scott, a little surprised at the company, pleased that they were both managing to fit back in.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Heading out the front door, Gambit paused to light a cigarette.  He offered his companion one and received a shake of the head in reply. Some things didn't change.  As he inhaled, he thought quickly and turned to Scott with a sly smile.  Scott tilted his head, as Gambit had done, questioning.  Gambit blew out the smoke and raised his eyes and his face towards the roof.  He had the distinct impression that Scott was rolling his eyes, but he received a resigned nod in agreement.  Grinning he began the climb up the trellis, feeling it shake as Scott followed.  

They both settled on the roof, Gambit smoking contentedly and Scott lying back staring at the night sky.  Neither spoke for some time, enjoying the peace, broken only by the occasional noise from the student's dorms.  Gambit finished his cigarette and stubbed it out on the tiles.  He too lay back, gazing up at the stars.

"Miss'd dis place" he spoke softly so as not to break the silence all at once.

Now it was Scott's turn to raise an eyebrow.  "Really?  Would you have back if you hadn't been forced to?"  The question could have been a challenge except there was no anger in it.  It sounded like he genuinely wanted to know.

"Prob'bly sometime.  But we're not all cut out for de teachin' profession, y'know what I mean?"

"I know." The words were quiet, but Gambit got the impression that Scott really did understand.  He was still Scott Summers, the professor's golden boy, only he was more weathered.  Hardened by an experience that would have broken most other people.  He wasn't quite the closed minded, Fearless Leader now.  The fact that he'd come out here with Gambit of all people was proof enough of that.  He let the silence drift on a bit, enjoying the strangeness of the situation.  Scott seemed to content to drift with him, snorting with occasional humour at the louder noises from below.  Either the girls were having a clothes exchange or the boys had made one of their regular raiding trips into the female dorms.  The girly squeals and cries could have been with delight or fear – it was difficult to tell from up here.  

As if settling something in his mind, Gambit shifted so he could see his companion and examined him more closely.

"If y'don' mind me asking, _homme_, you and Jeannie….you guys….ok?"  

Scott looked only a little surprised.  "You don't miss a thing, do you?  What makes you ask?"

"Oh y'know, lil' t'ings"  Gambit turned his face to the sky again.  "Y'not as comfortable as y'were, not touchin' or lookin' at each other.  S'like you're tiptoeing round, hoping no one'll notice you're together.  Plus Emma was givin' you some 'significant looks' over dinner.  She not one f'subtlety that femme."

Scott smiled.  "She really isn't, is she."  He shifted awkwardly, as though caught out and having to come up with a good excuse quickly.  "She's been…helping me.  It's been hard, coming back and I figured as a telepath Emma was probably the best candidate to…help."  There was certainly a helpless tone to his voice, as if to say he wasn't sure what had happened but it certainly wasn't his fault.

Gambit turned himself towards the man,  rising and resting on one elbow, so he could see Scott's whole face, not just the side towards him.  "Y'really t'ink she gonna have de answers to y'problems?  Someone like dat?"  Seeing Scott about to leap to her defence he carried on quickly.  "M'not questionin' her loyalty to the team, or her psi-powers, but the woman got no…"  he searched for the word, "sensitivity.  You t'ink it jus' coincidence she can turn h'self to diamond?  Suits her inside as well.  You and Jean gotta find each other, not 'spect someone else t'do it f'you.  An' for once, I know what I'm talkin' 'bout."  

Scott turned to look at him and Gambit felt he could see the pain in the man's eyes, even through the ruby lenses.  This was a very different Scott Summers to the man he had known.  He liked him better for it, but couldn't help regretting the cost.  Scott held his gaze for a moment longer, then looked back at the sky.

"I guess I already knew that.  But with one thing and another, we couldn't have found the time to patch things up if we'd wanted to."

"Dere's always a way."  Gambit said quietly.  "But sometimes you gotta be pushed into it before you'll go."

"Like, say, nearly dying?"

"Oh yeah.  Dat'll do it every time.  "'Specially when de woman won' let you go."  He tried not to relive the pain of what Rogue had done.  It had been an unspoken issue between them, for everything else they'd managed to talk about.  He loved her more than he'd realised, but still didn't want to deal with her dragging him away from the only peace he'd ever known.  Not wanting to go there, especially not now, he turned his attention back to Scott.

"You wan' her, homme, you gotta do somet'in'.  Not just stand still an' let t'ings happen to you."  With only the sound of his duster catching the breeze, Gambit was down the trellis and back into the house.  

Scott heard the door close behind him.  The night was getting chilly, but he lay there a while longer, just staring up at the stars.


	2. Tuesday

**TUESDAY**

****

**Morning**

_Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks_

_Within his bending sickle's compass come;_

_Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,_

_But bears it out even to the edge of doom._

_Sonnet 116_ by William Shakespeare

Henry McCoy was running out of patience.  "Don't make me hurt you Gambit!"  His patient had submitted with bad grace to the less invasive scans, but had a definite aversion to needles.  Even Rogue was coping better and she was used to being invulnerable.

She too was losing patience.  "Remy, jus' sit down and let the man do his job.  It's what we're here for, remember?"

Gambit was looking furtively round the lab as though trying to find the fastest route out of there.  Hank had just about had enough.  Taking his patient's arms in his large paws, he lifted him off his feet and put him, not too gently, on the examination table.  "Sit there and don't move."  He growled, then, softening, "It's for your own good, Gambit.  It won't take long if you just sit still."

Gambit nodded absently, eyes still roaming round the room, looking for possible exits, or as though he expected something to leap out of the shadows at him.  As Hank turned away to the instrument table, he caught Rogue's eye.  They were both a little spooked by Gambit's behaviour.  He'd hardly spoken a word since they'd been down here and Remy always had the nerve to wisecrack.  Trying not to let his concern show too much, Hank turned back, keeping his movements slow and careful.  "Now, I'm just going to take some blood, ok?  It'll only take a minute and won't hurt if you just keep still."  Nevertheless, Gambit still flinched at the touch of the needle, looking over Hank's head as he filled the sample bottle.  "Right.  You're all done."  

Hank carefully labelled the bottle, giving Rogue another significant look as he ambled off to start the analysis.  Rogue hopped down from her seat and walked slowly over to Gambit.  He was still sitting, staring into space, apparently unaware of her or anything else in the room.  _Wherever he is_, she thought, _it sure ain' here_.  Trying not to startle him, she put a hand on his arm.  "Remy?  You gonna come back to me now?"

"Hmm?"  Gambit shook his head and he managed to make his eyes focus on Rogue.  "Rogue, chére?  Sorry.  Was miles away."  He shivered a little.  The medical bay felt cold and hard, all metal surfaces and electric cables.  For somewhere designed to heal the sick, Hank's lab felt awfully stark.  

"You with me now, sugah?"  Rogue's eyes were full of concern and he felt sudden guilt at scaring her.

"Sure, chére, sure"  He smile his best grin, all white teeth and curled lips, knowing it fooled neither of them, even if it did make him feel better. It may have been bravado, but even pretending everything was alright helped.  "Was jus'… rememb'ring."  He shivered again.  He'd been in too many labs like this, being prodded and poked in the name of science.  He'd tried to ignore the _things_ he'd seen in Sinister's labs, focussing on only what he needed to do, but no-one could ignore everything.  Some of the things he'd seen would stay with him forever.  Realising he was spacing out again, he shook his head and managed to meet Rogue's eyes.  "C'mon, Rogue. Dis place gives me de creeps."  Grabbing his shirt and her hand, he hurried out of the lab and into the mansion.

The atmosphere up here was warmer, wooden panels and soft carpets, but it was still too enclosed.  Keeping his grip on Rogue, Gambit pulled her out into the sunshine, stopping in the middle of the main lawn.  Tilting his head back, he took a deep breath of the fresh air, free of the smells of disinfectant and steel.

"Erm, Remy, sugah?  Ah really think…"  Rogue nudged him slightly and he looked down at her, puzzled.  She nodded her head to the other side of the garden, where a gaggle of female students were watching from and giggling.  "Ah think you might want to put your shirt on?"  Remy's torso still bore some traces of scars and to her eyes his ribs were still far too visible, but even so, to impressionable teenage girls, he probably held far more attraction than any of the current male staff.

He grinned at her.  "What, Rogue?  You jealous?"

"Of them?  Please!"

"Well, den.  You don' got anyt'in' to worry 'bout, do y'?"  He was really laying it on thick, both the lecherous smile and the accent.  Moving faster than she'd expected, he pulled on the hand he was holding, wrapped his other arm round her waist and leant her back into a deep kiss.  Distantly, she could hear the girls' giggles, but they seemed a long way off compared to the blood rushing in her ears.  For a moment she was lost, just feeling him close, holding her-

_*Rogue?  Gambit?*_  the jolt of the telepathic call startled them both into breaking off the kiss and Rogue was grateful she hadn't ended up on the grass.  The kiss had been fun, that would have just been embarrassing.  His lips still on hers, Remy mumbled

"Always got perfect timin', Prof."

_*Sorry, but I thought you'd want to know.  I've found your missing mutant.*_  There was actually very little apology in Xavier's telepathic voice. 

"Maybe he t'ink we settin' his students a bad example, neh?"  Remy was still bending over her, unwilling to let her go.  Smiling regretfully, Rogue kissed him on the nose and forced her way up.

"Duty calls, Ah guess."

"Yeah, I guess."  With a glance across the garden, Gambit pulled his shirt on, stretching his arms out for maximum effect.  Rogue whacked him playfully in the stomach.

"Stop that."

"Why?  You scared one of them gonna have a crush on me?"

"No, it's a bit late for that."  Rogue smiled sweetly.  "It's just cruel to show them what they can't have."  This time she took his hand and lead him back into the house.  Remy followed to the door, turning on the threshold to blow a kiss across the lawn.  His reward was another burst of girlish giggles, and a sharp tug from Rogue to pull him inside before she slammed the door behind them.

As neither of them had been down to see Cerebra, Gambit had supposed it would look much like the old Cerebro.  Despite himself, he was impressed with the new set up.

"M'sieur le bete, you've really outdone yourself dis time."  Gambit whistled softly to himself.  However much Hank might denigrate the dexterity of his huge paws, this was a work of art.  

Xavier looked small and fragile sitting at the heart of the great machine, but Gambit knew just how deceptive that appearance was.  Together, Xavier and Cerebra could do just about anything.  The thought made him more than a little nervous, that they could simply walk into anyone's mind and take what they wanted.  It was probably just the fact that he had some 'natural immunity' to being scanned that made him jumpy.  What with the session in Hank's lab and now this, his thoughts were definitely straying out of the gates and down the highway.  

Pulling himself together, he addressed the Professor.

"You said you'd found her?"

_*Yes.  Would you like to see?*_

"OK.  But be gentle.  I'm not used to this."  Despite Gambit's light tone, Rogue moved closer, just for reassurance.  With his powers 'off', Gambit's blocking abilities were weakened if not gone and he, unlike the others, wasn't used to having Xavier reach into his mind.

The professor smiled.  _*Don't worry, Gambit.  It won't hurt.  In fact, you might even enjoy it.*_  

"I doubt that"  Remy muttered, as he felt Xavier's mind touch his.  It was more of a jolt than he'd been expecting, as suddenly he could see the world laid out beneath him.  The surprise made him pull back, instinctively, as Xavier pulled him in.

_*Don't panic Gambit.  This is normal.  This is what the world looks like through Cerebra.  The points of light are mutants, the brighter the light, the more powerful they are.*_

Gambit's senses adjusted, coping with the dramatic change in perspective, not liking it at all.

"So where's de girl?"

The picture whirled and changed and Gambit found himself looking at a close up of New York, with Manhattan clearly recognisable.  There were perhaps hundreds of winking lights in the great city.

"You're kiddin'.  She's right here in New York?"  

Gradually the lights faded until only one was left.  

"De village.  I don't believe it.  She could have walked past us on the street yesterday!"  Gambit watched the light move along streets he and Rogue had been walking the day before.  "She jus' shoppin' or she livin' there?" 

_*As far as I can tell, this is her address.  Or at least it's where she's living for the past couple of weeks.  She's got a very…closed mind.  I couldn't push to hard without alarming her.*_

Xavier eased out of Gambit's mind and the world spun again.  The lab came into focus around him and he braced himself against the dizziness, having to close his eyes to keep his balance.  When he opened them again, Xavier had removed Cerebra's interface helmet and was stepping out of the machine.  Rogue looked at Gambit, noting the strain around his eyes.

"You ok, sugah?"

"Oui.  Jus' not used to it, y'know?"  Gambit shook his head to clear it, adjusting to the knowledge Xavier had put there.  "So, now we know where t'find her."

"You goin' to ring Courier?"  

Gambit considered for a minute.  Half of him, probably the sensible half, was telling him that they should just ring Jake, give him the address and let him get on with him.  The other half, the one with the instincts in, was saying that that might not be a good idea.  So instead of answering the question he asked one of his own.

"Prof.?  You get any idea of what her powers are?"  At Rogue's unspoken question he went on, "Thought it would be useful to know.  Madamoiselle Gavin may have good reason for hiding and I'd feel kinda bad for giving her away"

Xavier closed his eyes, remembering what he had seen through Cerebra.  "She had impressive psi-shields, but if she is a telepath she's a low level one.  There was no outward physical mutation, unless her blindness is part of it.  Apart from that, I couldn't tell.  I didn't want to violate her privacy any more than I already had and she certainly would have felt it if I'd pushed harder"

"You think we'd put her in danger if we tell Jake?"  

Gambit was impressed.  Rogue could read him better than he realised.  Even Xavier looked surprised

"Danger?  She may be a little annoyed, but I don't see…"

"Nor do Ah, but Gambit does, dontcha?"

He had to smile at that.  Rogue was certainly keeping up with him.  "Oui, chére.  That's what I think.  I think that if she's half as powerful as Jake said, she wouldn't need to run.  And what's she doin' cuttin' h'self off from all that money?  Or why not just tell them to butt outta her life an' leave her alone.  You have t'go to a lot of trouble to hide from the Gavin fortune, so why bother unless you're desp'rate?  No, there's too many questions wit'out answers here."  He shook his head, "You only run like that if you really have to.  Plus, t'quote a well known phrase or sayin', I got a bad feelin' about this."  

Even Xavier smiled at that.  "So what will you do?"  He asked.

"What?"  Gambit was feigned surprise "No words of wisdom t'guide us on our way?"

"Gambit, I have learnt that wise advise to you is pretty much water off a duck's back.  You're not my students now, nor are you my employees."  Xavier's smile took them both in.  "You've always done what you thought was right, no matter how much I might disagree with you.  So.  What _are _you going to do?"

Unable to resist, Gambit bowed extravagantly to the professor.  "Merci, mon capitaine."  But there was real respect in his eyes as they met Xavier's.  He'd wondered how the professor felt about their departure and while there was clearly regret at their choice, there was an underlying acceptance of what they were doing.  He didn't know Xavier could be so gracious and was impressed despite himself.  "I t'ink de first thing is to go see de young lady, find out de whole story 'fore rushing into anyt'in'."

"Sounds wise.  Well, I expect Henry will be wanting to see you."  Gambit knew that coming from a telepath, that wasn't just idle speculation.     

"Guess we'd better be goin' then, huh Remy?"  Rogue held out a hand to the Xavier.  "Thanks, Professor.  We appreciate the help."

Xavier took her hand, still smiling and shook it warmly.  "Anytime, Rogue.  Remy.  Come back whenever you want."

As they left the room, the couple shared a wry look.  

"He never stops tryin', does he?"

"Can you blame him, chére?  We can't just waltz in an' out like we own de place and not expect him to say somet'in'.  I'm just surprised he was so subtle 'bout it."

"Well, Ah say we find out what Hank's got to say and high tail it outta here.  Before you end up teachin' those giggling 10th graders."

"There's only one t'ing I'm qualified to teach and somehow I don't t'ink Charlie'll want his precious kids learning that"  Then, catching her look, "or that!"

"Oh Ah don' know."  Rogue grinned wickedly.  "Some of those kids looked like they could use some entertainment"

Despite himself, Gambit chuckled.  "Jus' what exactly d'you think I'm gonna teach them?"

Rogue's eyes were playful, "Why, Remy LeBeau, what are you thinkin'?  Ah just meant you could show them how to sneak out at night, you know, get past the alarms and such."

"An' dat's all you was thinkin'"

"Of course"

"Y'know, sometimes I wonder just what kind of a guy you think I am, chére?"

In answer, Rogue pulled him into a kiss.  When she finally pulled away, the playful smile was still on her lips.  "My guy."

**Afternoon**

****

****

_If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster_

_And treat those two impostors just the same_

_If_ by Rudyard Kipling

Gambit held onto the memory of the kiss as they entered the lab again.  Remembering why he was there was as important as remembering he could leave any time he wanted.  Hank wanted to help because he was a friend, not out of pure scientific interest.  Holding back his shudder, he decided to go on the offensive.  Smiling his best smile, he addressed the doctor.
    
    "So, mon ami. You got somet'in' f'r us?"
    
    Hank winced. "My friend, if you must retain your no doubt culturally important accent at all times, do you think you could employ it in such a way that it does not mangle the English language beyond all recognition?"
    
    "Pardon, monsieur. Préférez-vous le Français? [Would you prefer French ?]" The accent was pure Parisien without a trace of the South.
    
    "Nur wenn Ihnen Deutsch nichts ausmacht." 
    
    [Only if you don't mind German]

Gambit laughed, knowing when he was beaten, and sat down on the exam table.  

Shaking her head, Rogue sat next to him and took his hand.  Gambit tried not to clasp her hand too tightly in return.  Despite the good humour, his nerves were getting to him.

"When you boys are quite done?" she said.  "What's the verdict, Beast?"  

Hank didn't speak for a moment, staring at the pencil he was holding, which looked absurdly small in his huge paw.  Rogue's hand clenched in his, fearing the worst.

"Rogue.  Gambit.  You both know that, apart from Vargas' sword, Khan's beam hurt you badly.  It forced your powers, Remy, into overdrive, using them in a way that was never meant to be.  We know from past experience how damaging your powers can be at full strength.  This pushed them beyond even that."

Again, Gambit suppressed a shudder at the memory of having access to his 'full powers'.  He hadn't been able to contain the energy surging through him then, but the danger had been to others rather than himself.

"So you saying I fried m'self an' Rogue when we were in dat beam?"

"No, Remy.  As you know, you cannot charge living tissue.  Even when your powers were out of control, you could burn people, but not make them actually explode."

"Merci, m'sieur.  I had f'gotten."  Gambit's tone was icy

"I'm sorry, my friend.  I was so busy being the detached physician I forgot to be your friend.  Forgive me."

"Just get to the point, Hank!"  Rogue was getting impatient.  Clearly Beast had something difficult to say, but his delay wasn't helping any of them

"Right.  Basically, as you suspected, your powers burnt out.  The closest normal human analogy I can come up with is the liver of an alcoholic.  The cells are so damaged by the abuse that they die, and when they regenerate they can grow back wrong somehow.  They rearrange themselves incorrectly, so that the liver no longer works properly.  In simple terms, that is what has happened to you.  The nerves, the cells, the pathways that are involved when you use your mutant power are rewiring themselves wrongly causing the occasional bursts of power you have both experienced."

Beast fell silent, letting his words sink in, before continuing.  "I'm sure you both have a lot of questions, so lets see if I can answer them.  Firstly Rogue.  Your systems seem to be putting themselves back together, slowly.  Probably a combination of your Kree heritage and Wolverine's healing factor.  It'll take time, but eventually you should be back to normal."  

Rogue nodded, trying to understand what she was being told.  She would be happy, she guessed, if she'd known the doctor wasn't done yet.

"Gambit.  It's a little harder for you"

"No healin' factor, right?"

"When you come right down to it, yes.  Thanks to her unique genetic make up and her mutant abilities, Rogue can heal much better and faster than probably all of us except Logan.  I'm afraid your body isn't coping as well."

"Not'in' you c'n do, eh?"

"Not at the moment"

Rogue broke in, "But Beast, what about those nano-probes you used in Madripor?  Couldn't you use them to…"

"I'm afraid not.  The damage is too extensive.  Even with equipment equal to the task, the strain of the procedure would probably be fatal."

Gambit smiled, ruefully.  "So dat's it, huh?  All this runnin' round, savin' de world, buildin' a life.  All f'r not'in'."  Rogue opened her mouth to interrupt.  "No chére, dat's how 'tis.  Figures."  The smile was more bitter now, as he looked Beast straight in the eye.  "Merci, mon ami.  You bin honest, and I 'preciate it.  I guess we better go find de girl now, oui?  Try t'do some good."

"Hang on a second, sugah."  Rogue wasn't giving up so easily.  "Beast, you said 'not at the moment'."

"Well, there's always the chance that we'll find a way to repair the damaged cells and pathways.  I've got the computer working on it at the moment and.."

"S'alright, doc.  I'll manage.  Guess dis livin' t'ing's just somet'in' I gotta cope with, eh?"  He stood up, letting go of Rogue's hand.  "I'll go put our stuff together an' we can get outta here, OK Rogue?"

Rogue took a deep breath, just about managing to hold onto her temper.  "You want a hand?"

"Non.  S'fine.  I'll see you in a bit."  Without looking at either of them, he walked out of the lab.

There was silence for a minute following his departure, neither Rogue nor Beast knowing what to say.  Suddenly the computer beeped, making them both jump.  

"Rogue, I…"  Hank struggled for the words.  "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault.  You've done your best for us, always.  Hell, we owe you our lives."

"I'm not sure Remy would thank me for his at the moment."

"Hank, right now, he wouldn't thank either of us."  Rogue got up and went over to him, putting her hand on his arm.  It looked so small, sinking into the blue fur.  Hank had rarely seen Rogue looking helpless, but now, standing next to him with her head bowed, she looked like a small child, frightened and alone.  After a moment she seemed to pull herself together and she raised her head to him.  Behind the pain in her eyes, Hank knew there was a will of iron.  He could only hope that would be enough to get her and Gambit through this.

"Anything I can do to help, you just come back here. OK?"  He covered her hand with his.

"OK.  Thanks for everything."  She lifted her other hand to his face, then she too was gone, without looking back, leaving Hank alone in the lab with only the computers for company.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Gambit reached his and Rogue's room grateful he hadn't bumped into students or staff on the way.  He resisted the urge to slam the door, and settled for closing it with extreme care, just to see how silently he could do it.  The action felt good, an old habit, a skill he hadn't lost.  He had to remember that.  Whatever else happened, he had his old skills to fall back on.  His own words were coming back to haunt him.

_I'm a t'ief when all else fails an' all else failed_

Running a hand over his face, he began to collect up the few things they'd brought.  

They.  

Giving up on the packing, he sat down on the bed, face in his hands and tried to think.  He couldn't just take to the hills and hope for the best.  Despite himself, he snorted with laughter. Nor could he go on thinking in clichés or he really would go mad.  Shaking his head at his typically inappropriate sense of humour, he tried to put his thoughts in order again.  It had been much easier to make this kind of decision when he only had himself to think about.  Now he had to consider what Rogue would want to do.  If she was going to get her powers back, she would want to come back to the X-men, he was sure of it.  

And what then?  He couldn't hang about in the sidelines, wringing his hands and hoping she'd come back safe.  He might not be helpless without his powers, but he was a realist.  The kind of world the X-men moved in was one where the average 'flatscan' would be a liability, even if he was a master thief.  Although he wasn't completely reliant on his powers for everything, they gave him an edge that was necessary.  And if he couldn't run with the X-men, what would that mean for him and Rogue.  How much would she give up to be with him?  And how much would he sacrifice to make her happy?

Ending up back where he started, he decided to do something, rather than just sit.  Opening his eyes, he noticed the faint glow around his fingers again, and this time he could feel the power not just see it.  Also feeling the need to work off the frustration, he looked around the room, spotting a particularly charmless vase on a small table.  Moving quickly, he got up and wrapped his hands round it, feeling, just for a moment, the familiar surge of power.   Rather than blow it up, he concentrated on pouring as much power into it as he could, letting his frustration and anger carry him along.  The vase glowed bright as though on fire for a moment and then disappeared, his power scattering the molecules across the room.  Then as suddenly as it had come, the power faded, leaving him empty inside.

Resisting the temptation to kick the side-table over, he clenched his fists.  He would not lose it.  He would not.  Breathing deeply, he went round the room, collecting the few bits and pieces they had brought with them.  They both travelled light and most of their things were at the apartment in New York anyway.  As he retrieved the things from the bathroom, he kept his eyes fixed downwards.  There was no way he was going to look in the mirror, no way he could meet his own eyes at the moment.  Not if he wanted to get out without trashing the place.  Disintegrating the vase had felt good, but wasn't enough and never could be, living with just the occasional flickerings of power.  He wasn't sure he could do that.  What would he do if that happened in the middle of a job?  It had been embarrassing enough blowing up that lamp in the motel but it could have been much worse.

Throwing the last bottles into the bag, he zipped it up and slung it over his shoulder.  Turning to leave the room, he stopped sharply.  The door he had shut so carefully had been opened with equal care and a woman stood framed in the doorway.

"You leaving us so soon, Remy?"  her voice wasn't accusing, although Gambit thought he heard some sadness in it.

"Got to Jeannie.  T'ings t'do, people t'see.  Y'know how 'tis."

"If you think your 'devil may care', 'Cajun charmer' act is going to get past me, you're either dumber or more forgetful than you look."  Jean stepped into the room, smiling wryly.  "I know you, Remy LeBeau, and you are not just slinking out of here without saying goodbye."

Gambit knew when he was beaten, but couldn't be doing with this now.  "Look, Jean.  We gotta go, OK?  So, here it is – Goodbye.  See y'around"  He made to walk past her but she stepped into his path.

"Remy, I don't know what Beast told you, that's between you, Rogue and him, but I know that you're going to be alright.  You always find a way."

"Not this time, chére."  Gambit's voice was barely a whisper.  Unable to meet her eye, he stared over her head.  "I just gotta…figure it out.  Work out what t'do now."

"No, Remy." Jean's voice was firm.  "You and Rogue have to figure it out.  That's how it works when you're a couple."

"Like you and Scotty y'mean?"  Instantly he regretted it.  "_Sapriste_, Jeannie, I didn't mean…"

"I know."  If Jean was hurt she covered it well.  "Yes.  Like me and Scott.  We are a brilliant example of how not to do it.  Hell, Remy, you and Rogue have got something good.  Don't let it go just 'cause you're too scared or too stubborn to talk to her."

He finally managed to look down at her.  "Vous aussi, Jean.  [You too, Jean]  Merci, mon amie."  He kissed her on the forehead, settled the bag on his shoulder and left.  Jean looked around the room, psychically picking up his and Rogue's residual presence.  Then, wrapping her arms around herself, she left as well.  

Gambit was almost at the bottom of the stairs when Rogue met him.  She seemed about to speak, but changed her mind and took his hand instead.  Grateful to avoid a scene in front of the various students and X-men in the hall, he stepped down next to her and made his way over to the door.

"T'anks f'everyt'ing, Professor.  I 'preciate all you done."  He shook Xavier's hand and pulled the door open.

"Gambit!"  Beast came loping down the corridor.  Gambit took a deep breath before turning to face him, managing to keep his feelings under control.  "Gambit.  Rogue.  I can't believe you were just going to sneak out without saying goodbye!"  Beast wrapped his arm around Rogue, pulling her into a hug.  Releasing her, he held the same hand out to Gambit.  After a moment's hesitation, Remy took it, his fingers disappearing into the soft fur.  "My friend.  If you need anything, either of you, just call.  And I'll keep working."

The sincerity and sadness in the huge yellow eyes was too much for Gambit.

"Oui, mon ami.  Je sais."  Beast nodded gratefully, apparently satisfied with this answer.  "C'mon, chére.  I wan' t'get back to de city b'fore dark."  Gambit tugged on her hand, and she followed him down the steps, still not saying a word.

Before they pulled away, Gambit raised his hand in farewell to the figures still standing in the doorway.  Then he revved the bike's engine and accelerated down the drive.

The Professor and the Doctor stood for a moment, watching them go.

"What are your chances of finding a treatment, Henry.  Honestly?"

"Honestly, Charles?  Snowballs and hell, my friend.  Snowballs and hell."

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

**Sunset**

_Those I fight, I do not hate, _

_Those I guard I do not love._

An Irish Airman foresees his death by W B Yeats

They had made it back just as the sun was setting over Central Park.  Rogue had been surprised at Remy having an apartment in such a good neighbourhood and with such a good view.  Then she was surprised that she was surprised.  After all, no-one really knew how much money Remy had or where he kept it.  She knew his houses in the South were impressive, so why shouldn't his one here be as well?  And she had to admit she liked the penthouse.

When they pulled up outside, Rogue mentally rehearsed the conversation they would have.  She would make him talk, he would tell her how he was feeling, they would kiss, make up and go find this girl in the morning.  As she was working all this out, she realized Remy hadn't moved.  Oh well, looked like they were starting here rather than upstairs.

"Yoo-hoo, sugah.  This is our stop."  She swung herself off the bike and removed her helmet.  Remy still didn't move.  He didn't even look at her.  So she tried again.  "You gonna sit there all night?"

"Go on up, Rogue.  I'm jus' gonna.."

"Gonna what?  In case you hadn't noticed, we're in New York, Remy.  You can't exactly take to the wide open highways."

This got a response and he turned his head towards her, face unreadable behind the helmet's visor.  They'd seemed like a good idea at the time, as any accident was far more likely to be fatal without their powers, but Rogue was now regretting the decision.  It made him even more unreadable than usual.  He looked at her in silence for a moment, then killed the engine and took off his helmet.

"You go on up, chére.  I'm gonna take a walk in the park."

"Remy.."

"What?  You scared of muggers?  I'm powerless, Rogue.  Not helpless."  

Counting to five (she didn't have time for ten) Rogue took a deep breath.  

"Ah jus' thought, you know, we could talk, or somethin'.."  She trailed off at the look on his face.

"Not here, ok?  Maybe later.  I willcome back, but I jus' gotta…clear m'head, y'know?"  He looked away from her, down the street.  Since it was agree or argue right here and now, Rogue decided to postpone, but not cancel.

"OK, sugah."  She leant over and kissed his cheek.  "Don' go robbin' the Met.  You know they get testy."  This just about got a small smile.  She took his helmet and went into the building, deliberately not looking back.

Once she was gone, Remy looked back at the bike.  It would have been good to take it out now.  To see just how much his reflexes had survived.  To test himself.  But she was right, New York wasn't the place for the speed he needed right now; there was too much chance of hitting something or someone.  Instead he looked up.  As a thief, the rooftops had always been his route of choice, and right now that was the only part of him he had left. 

Once high above the city, he felt his head clear.  This was right.  This was familiar.  Up here, there were no X-men, no powers, just him and gravity.  The run was doing him good as well, to remember that this was something he was good at and that his mutant genes couldn't interfere with.  Tumbling to his feet after a satisfyingly risky jump, he stopped to look at the city.  He'd covered most of the block, and would either have to turn back or come down to street level – even he couldn't just jump across a whole street.  Deciding to go with his first impulse, he turned towards the park, forced down to street level, covering the ground quickly, keeping to the shadows and alleys.  

The park was emptying, sensible people heading home before dark.  He walked in, cataloguing the people he passed, assigning them as targets or threats.  He felt as though if he could force his instincts to work hard enough, maybe he could get rid of the sick feeling in his stomach, and forget all the thoughts that were worrying him.  It wasn't working so far, but he could hope.  

As he wandered through the park, he could see the looming outline of the Metropolitan Museum, silhouetted against the setting sun.  It was tempting to try something, just for the fun of it, but Rogue was right, they did tend to have strong feelings about burglars.  Plus the security was so much tighter now.  Even if he'd had all his abilities…

Remy stopped that thought there and then.  He was out here to stop thinking things like that.  And he could still take the Met if he'd wanted to.  He'd just said he wouldn't.  Well, not said exactly.  Implied.  It wasn't like he'd promised, or anything like that.  He just hadn't said he would.  He could.  If he wanted.  Which he didn't.  Much.

Mood lightened a little by the thought, he meandered aimlessly through the park, watching the sensible people get out of the deserted area before dark.  This was his time of day.  He had nothing to fear from anything or anyone here.  He shook his head, smiling.  He was probably what people were afraid of.  He could catalogue them all as they went past, from the students to the lovers to the pushers.  Kind of like Sherlock Holmes, picking up on the little details that told so much.  That made him snort with laughter.  The master thief and the great detective having something in common!  It was no real trick, just looking a bit more closely and actually recognising what you were seeing.  

This was all good. It was distracting, a good reminder of all that he could still do.  This was his world, and nothing could change that.  Settling himself on a bench overlooking the lake, he closed his eyes.  He could hear the wind moving the trees above him, hear the water move in the same breeze.  Hear the distant sounds of the traffic moving up and down the crowded streets.  Hear..

He broke off his reverie, opening his eyes.  He could hear scuffling footsteps, and any minute..  There it was.  A small cry.  Closing his eyes again briefly to get the direction, he broke into a run.  

About twenty metres away a young kid, probably not more than eighteen, was pulling a handbag off a middle-aged lady.  All credit to her, she wasn't giving it up, but Remy knew that could well be a mistake.  The kid didn't look like he was armed, but you never could tell.  They both looked up as they heard his running footsteps.  The surprise froze them both for a moment and the kid recovered first.  He wrenched the bag out of his victim's hands and took off.  

Sparing time for a quick "Scuse me ma'am", Gambit took off after him.  The kid was quick, he had to give him that, but Remy doubted he could keep it up for long.  He was gaining already, as they came round a bend in the path.  The gates of the park weren't far off, and Remy was determined to catch him before that.  It would be too easy to get lost in the late night crowds of the city.  Judging the distance instinctively, he took two long strides, the third taking him up onto a bench, from which he launched himself into the air.  Nothing fancy, just a long, graceful dive.  He came down, hands on the kid's shoulders, bearing them both to the ground.  He felt the boy twist underneath him and smiled grimly.  This was no professional.  It would be much harder to get up from his back than his front.  Planting his hands on the ground, he looked down at his prisoner.

The boy was younger than he'd thought, probably barely sixteen.  He was scrawny and dirty, his baseball cap having come off in the struggle to reveal matted hair that had probably once been blonde.  Remy's stomach clenched – he knew the signs.  This kid probably needed the money more than that woman ever would.  And what right had he to play policeman?  All this hanging around with the X-Men had got him thinking he was some kind of hero.  So here he was, stopping some pathetic boy who probably hadn't eaten properly in days, to help a woman whose thanks would probably die as soon as she got a proper look at Remy's eyes.  

These thoughts took less than two seconds, more like years to the .  The bag was still clenched in his hands and he was terrified boy.  The bag was still clenched between them, as though he expected to use it as a weapon.  Gambit's hands were either side of his head, their faces were barely inches apart.  Give him credit for some nerve, he hadn't cried out or panicked despite his obvious fear.

Gambit shook his head and got to his feet, pulling the boy up as well.  Behind him, he could hear running footsteps.

"You hear dat?  Dat's de woman comin' to get her stuff.  Now, she can have it back, but I've a mind not t'give her you as well, _comprends_?"  Gambit spoke fast and low, making sure the kid was getting him.  

Although the boy looked uncertain, it would have taken a tougher nut than him to stand up to an angry Gambit, especially when his eyes glowed with their own fire.  Apparently knowing where his best interests lay, he dropped the bag and took to his heels, disappearing around the bend in the path.  Gambit shook his head.  The impressionability of the young, eh?  He bent down and picked up the bag, turning as he rose to meet the now rather red faced lady coming towards him.  He held it out towards her, bowing with a flourish.

"Madame. I believe dis is yours?"  

She took it gratefully.  

"Thank you so much."  Her words were gushing out with relief.  "It's got pictures of my grandson in.  He's only six months old but my daughter's taken him to England with her so who knows when I'll see them again and so for now these are the only things I have of him and there isn't even any money in here as I don't get paid til tomorrow but I've got plenty in the cupboard and I thought it would be quicker through the park and I've been safe here for so many years"  She finally stopped for breath.  "I'm sorry.  I'm just a little shaken."

"Perfectly understandable.  Do you have far to go home?"  

"I'm actually on my way to catch a bus.  I know the metro's quicker but I don't like being underground."  She laughed a little to herself.  "I don't feel safe.  And I thought Fifth Avenue would be.  Silly I guess."

"Not at all, madame."  Gambit flashed his 'no. 5, older lady in need of charming' smile.  "may I escort you to your stop?"

She actually flushed.  "Well.  Well, that would be lovely, if it isn't too much trouble."  Gambit put out his arm and she took it.  "You see, I work...."  

She took up her monologue again, talking of everything and nothing, as they left the park and walked to her stop.  Gambit let his mind take a back seat and immersed himself in her inane chatter.  It was good to talk to someone whose conversation didn't include mutants or thieves or anything even remotely out of the ordinary.  Her normal, rather boring life had just been made far more exciting by a would-be mugger and a handsome stranger.  He decided to let her enjoy it for the time being.

When they reached the bus stop, she was quite out of breath again, this time from talking.  He waited until her bus arrived, and then helped her in, kissing her hand as she went.  She blushed again, and smiled at him, as the rest of the passengers either stared or pretended  not to notice.  The bus doors closed and he was left alone on the dark street.  She had gone back to her life, with just an exciting story and a slightly torn bag to show for her evening's adventure.  

Remy stood for a while at the bus stop, just staring into space.  The unfairness of it all threatened to overwhelm him for a moment, as he found himself envying her mundane life.  Then he thought of the look on the young boy's face.  He'd been there too often himself to have the kid arrested.  Someone else might do that, but not him.  Besides, he did have a home to go to now, and a someone to be there with him.  Of course at the moment that brought troubles of its own, but she would be there when he got back.  He really didn't want to have the conversation tonight, wanting to let it lie for a while.  But knowing Rogue, she'd want to talk, want to confront it head on.  And that was one of the things he loved about her.  She really thought you could sort these things out just by talking about them enough.  Remy he had to give her credit for trying, even if he knew better.

And she was probably going crazy right now, wondering what trouble he'd got himself into this time.  Grinning at the story he'd have to tell her, he turned up the collar of his coat and headed for home.

------------------------------------ ----------------------- ------------------------------------ ------------------------- ------------

**Evening**

_Love is a thing to which we soon consent,_

_As soon refuse, but sooner far repent_

Anonymous

It was completely dark by the time he got back to the apartment.  Taking a deep breath, he opened the door as silently as possible.  The living room inside was dark, the only light coming from the huge window overlooking Central Park, and the faint glow from the city.  Rogue was standing looking out, her arms wrapped around her waist, just gazing out at the scene with her back to him. He was sure he hadn't made any noise, but some instinct must have made her turn as he entered.  With the light behind her, he couldn't make out her expression. He was fairly sure it wasn't good.

He turned his own back on her, hanging his coat up carefully on its hook.  Reaching out he flipped on the light switch, and turned in time to see her squint in the sudden glare.  If he was keeping score, he'd guess it was one apiece.  

"You wait up for me, chère?"

"Just waitin'.  Where'd you go?"

"Jus' to the park."  He smiled again at the memory.  Catching her puzzled glance, he began to tell her about the bag thief and the lady, crossing the room slowly and settling himself on the couch as he did.  She yielded a little as he talked, also coming to the sofa, sitting at the other end.  

"So you didn't go after him?"

"Nah.  No real point, he'd be long gone.  'Sides, I been dere to often m'self to get all saintly about it.  Good turn all round I reckon."

Silence descended for a moment.  Rogue fiddled with the belt of her robe, while Remy became strangely fascinated by the picture above the fire place.  In his head he began counting, and had got to twelve when he heard Rogue draw in breath to speak.  Here it came.

"You gonna tell me, or am I gonna have to fight it out of you?"

"Tell you what, Rogue?"  

She gave him her special 'now you've annoyed me' glare.  "Play innocent with everyone else, Remy, but not with me."

He sighed.  Did she and Logan use the same scriptwriter?  Looked like they were having the conversation whether he wanted to or not.  

"OK.  I give in.  What is it you wan' t'know?"  He still didn't look at her, keeping his eyes fixed on the colourful swirls of the painting.

"What was it that spooked you so much in Beast's lab?"

Remy was surprised into glancing across at her.  That hadn't been the expected question, and they both knew it.  Well, if she wanted to go the long route for once, that was fine with him.  

"I jus' been in too many of those places.  All metal an' plastic an' beeping.  It just creeps me out, dat's all."  Her look clearly told him to keep going.  "An'…."  He took a deep breath.  Here we go, no turning back now.  "It reminded me of Sinister's.  Last time I had trouble wit' m'powers, I had t'go t'him.  Hanks' lab, it just brought back bad memories, that's all."

Rogue seemed to turn the answer over in her mind, to make sure it made sense from every angle.  Apparently satisfied, she pressed on.

"OK.  Ah'll buy that.  So.  What happens now, Remy?  Where do we go from here?"

He looked away from her again.  

"What happened to 'one day at a time', eh, chére?"

"It was good.  It was better than good.  Remy," she moved down the couch towards him, "Ah don' wanna fight.  Hell, I don' wan' to have this conversation any more than you do, but we knew we'd have to at some point.  We both have responsibilities, and we couldn't just ignore them forever."

"Dat's de problem, ain't it?"  He made no effort to curb the anger rising in him, strengthening his accent, knowing it annoyed her.  "You get to go back to de job, wear de uniform, be an X-man.  Me?  I got de Guild at m'back, wond'rin' if they made an almighty mistake makin' me their leader.  De two paths, they're movin' away from each other.  An' there's no way to bring them back."

"No."  Rogue spoke quietly, her voice firm.  She reached out and turned his face towards her, keeping her hand on his cheek.  "Ah fought too damn hard for this relationship.  Don' do this to me again, Remy.  Don' run away again."  

He opened his mouth to speak, only to find he didn't have the words.  She had opened the closed topic, and the monster of that day was rearing its ugly head again.  Looking in her eyes, he realised just how much she meant this, just how determined she was to make this relationship work, no matter what.  He copied her gesture, raising his own hand to her face.

"I know what dis means t'you, Rogue.  An' it does t'me too."

"Really?  You could've fooled me."  When he started to pull his hand away, she grasped at it.  "No, Remy, you do not get away with this one. Either this relationship means the same t'both of us, or we may as well jus' give it up now.  You can hate what Ah did, but we had another shot, we had our better times.  Ah refuse to believe that you don' feel the same."  Although she hadn't raised her voice, the intensity in it was overwhelming him.  

Pulling away, he got to his feet, standing at the window as she had done.  The lights of the city were distant, twinkling.  The scene was like something on a postcard, something somehow unreal.  What was he supposed to say?  He heard her get up as well, felt her arms go around his waist, her head rest against his back.

"Ah'm sorry."  She hugged him to her.  "But Ah have t'know, Remy.  Ah'm willin' to try and make a go of this, to find a way.  But Ah can't do it on ma own."

"You managed fine before."  He pulled away from her and turned.  He didn't care now, it was too late to worry about saying the right thing.  She'd started this conversation and she was the one who'd wanted to know.  "You didn't ask, did ya?  You just go ahead an' do whatever you t'ink is de right thing t'do and blow de consequences.  _You_ decided that we deserved better, _you_ decided it was time to live not die, _you_ brought me back."  He almost choked on the last part, but swallowed and kept going.  "An' now you wan' me to tell you dat it's all gonna be ok.  Well, sorry chére, it don't work like dat.  You got a future, hell, I might even have a future, but right now, I don' know that WE do."

"So that's it."  She was angry too, now.  "You're just goin' to call it quits now, after all we said and did?  No way, Remy.  No.  Way.  Yes, Ah was selfish.  Yes, Ah made the decision.  Ah also did what was best for us.  For US, Remy.  Even when there wasn't an us, Ah did my best for us."  She was running out of rage now, the hurt taking over.  "Ah may have screwed up lots before, Remy, but not on this.  We were, we _are_ worth it.  People always look at Scott and Jean, say they're the perfect couple.  Well Ah want that with us, only we won't unless you start pulling your weight as well."

Gambit decided not to point out the problem with using Scott and Jean as an example at the moment, but changed his mind.  That would be too much like breaking a confidence.  And he'd really had enough of this conversation.  Capitulation might hurt the pride, but at the moment, it was the easiest and best option.

"Look, Rogue, chèrie.  I don' want t'hurt you.  I never did.  An' I'm doin' m'best here, believe it or not.  This is jus' one thing too much at de moment.  Life I can cope with.  Life not being how it was, I'm goin' to take a bit of time t'get used to."  

"Life as it was?  Remy, in case you've forgotten, in life as it was, WE weren't."

He had to smile at that.  "I don' promise anyt'in'.  Like before.  One day at a time?"

She looked far from satisfied, realising that was the best she was going to get for the moment.

"OK.  One day at a time.  Ah'm warning you, Remy LeBeau, you do a snail impression on me again, an' I'll…."  

Whatever she was planning was lost as he pulled her against him.  When they broke for air, he murmured, "Got t'do dis while we can.  B'fore you get y'powers back an'…."

She pulled back, the pain clear in her eyes.

"Don't, OK?  Just don't.  Just be here.  Now."  And she kissed him again.  


	3. Wednesday

**WEDENSDAY**

****

_And we are here as on a darkling plain_

_Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight._

_Where ignorant armies clash by night._

_Dover__Beach_ by Matthew Arnold

In the morning, Remy was already up and making coffee when Rogue emerged from the bedroom.  It had been a stressful night for both of them.  Rogue's powers had flared twice, and she'd been too scared to come near him after that.  Neither of them felt bright or fresh this morning and Remy was beginning to regret taking on Courier's family problems – let him sort them out for himself.

"Mornin', River rat."

"Mornin', Swamp rat.  That coffee?"

"That's what it smells like."  He handed her a cup, cream already added.  "I t'ink this is your order?"

"Genius.  Thanks."  She sipped it gratefully, retreating to the couch.  Neither of them were really morning people, so they had made a silent pact not to try to talk before the first coffee of the day.  Remy took his own mug, strong and black, and joined her, stretching his legs out in front of him.  Rogue was curled up, apparently fascinated by the steam rising from her drink.

"You still wanna do dis, chére?  I can ring Jake and…."

"No.   You were right.  It's just….it was just a bad night, that's all."

The first of many to come, thought Remy, keeping the thought to himself.  He sipped his own coffee, wincing slightly at the bitterness – he'd made it a little strong this morning.  He hadn't exactly slept peacefully himself.  Something was bothering him about the whole business with Courier, but he couldn't put his finger on what it was.  Maybe it was just something his thieves instincts were picking up that he wasn't able to put into words yet.  Maybe it was some hitherto unknown mutant ability choosing to make itself known at the most inconvenient of times.  Whichever way it worked, there was something screwy about the whole thing, and he had no intention of walking in with his eyes closed.

"Oh, Ah forgot, with everything last night."  Rogue was fumbling down the side of the couch, eventually producing a mobile phone.  "Ororo rang yesterday.  Just a check in.  The team's in New York at the moment."  She smiled gently.  "'Ro wanted to know if we 'wanted to have dinner' – her words, not mine."

"Dinner?"  Remy laughed.  "Dat would be somet'in'.  Although I understand Bishop's a fair to decent cook."

Rogue's smile broadened.  "He sure is.  You should have seen him at Irene's old house, apron and everythin'."  They took a moment to consider the image, and shared an amused look.  "Anyway, the offer stands."

Remy thought for a moment.  "I think it might be an idea to let dem know what we're doin'" he said slowly.  Rogue looked surprised.

"You lookin' for back-up, sugah?  Ah thought we were just goin' to talk to this girl."

"Oui, mais….Je sais pas.  I jus' think it might not be a bad thing if de rest of de team knew what we're up to.  Jus' in case."

"You're serious, aren't you.  Heavens, Remy, you are spooked.  What d'you know that Ah don't?"  She looked at him accusingly

"Nothin'.  Honestly, nothin'.  Like I said yesterday, I have a bad feelin' 'bout this.  I don' want them to come hold our hands, but if we get into problems, I wan' them t'know where t'look."  He drained his coffee and rolled the empty mug between his palms.  "We don' know what we're getting' into here, Rogue.  An' for all that I like my independence, at de moment, if we run into serious problems, backup could be jus' what we need."

Rogue was still staring at him, mouth slightly open.  As if suddenly aware of this, she looked away and took a mouthful of coffee.

"You get a personality transplant when Ah wasn't looking, Remy?  Ah've never seen you like this."

"Yeah.  Well.  Call it instinct.  Call it trainin'.  Call it what you like."  He got up and took his cup towards the kitchen.  "But call Ororo."  

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________

The street door to the house in Greenwich Village didn't shut properly, so Remy was able to forego his lock picks.  Disappointed, he returned the pouch to one of his coat's numerous pockets.  He'd convinced Rogue to come at least half in uniform, although she kept giving him puzzled glances, and when he'd first suggested she'd actually laughed.

*******************

"C'mon sugah!  Y'all 're not serious.  Are ya?"  The Mississippi drawl increased with her surprise.  "It's one lil' girl, not the re-invasion of earth"

"I know, chére, I jus' think it's a good idea."  It sounded lame even to him.  Deciding distraction might work better, he crossed the room and stood close, resting his hands on her hips.  "B'sides."  He murmured,  "I jus' love you in skin-tight spandex"

She removed his hands firmly.  "You pay any attention?  They're X-men uniforms.  A bit tougher than spandex"

"But still skin-tight"

"Ah'm gonna wear jeans on the top"

"But I'll know."

Giving in, she shook her head and began rummaging in the chest of drawers.

***************

Now at the house, the familiar feel of the material was comforting against his skin, despite the t-shirt and jeans that hid it.  The coat had stayed, no debates about that.  As they climbed the stairs he automatically noted the positions of doorways, windows, possible weak points, anything that told him more about the place.

"You casin' the joint?"  Rogue looked amused.

Remy smiled back.  "No more than usual."  He paused as they reached the second floor landing.  "Did you notice that van 'cross de street?  All de equipment, but no sign o'de workmen.  Where d'you t'ink they be workin'?"

"Maybe they were inside or out the back.  How should I know?"  Rogue sounded exasperated.  "Remy, if you're gonna start getting paranoid on me we can just turn round right here."

"Chére, you're not paranoid when everyone _is_ out to get you"

Rogue laughed and pushed him on up.  Louisa Gavin lived on the top floor of the converted house.  It was obvious the current landlord didn't take as good care of the place as it deserved.  There was only one door at the top and Remy raised his hand to knock, then stopped and put his palm flat against it instead.  Rogue went to speak when he put up his other hand to stop her.  Seeing Remy had gone into business mode, she didn't argue.

Leaning onto his hand, Remy listened more closely to the noises coming from the other side of the door.  He closed his eyes and tried to separate them from the general street sounds.  There was the muffled voice of a girl, possibly in anther room; distant traffic; the sound of moving furniture; a shower running in another apartment; a chair being knocked over.  And then he heard a male voice, low and gruff and definitely unfriendly.

Rogue also heard the chair fall over, making a mental note to work out how she knew it was a chair.  Something in the quality of the sound, perhaps.  Pushing that to one side for the moment, she touched Remy's shoulder.  In answer, he stepped back to the top of the stairs and produced his bo-staff from a pocket.  He checked she was keeping up and, at her nod, took two long steps towards the door.  His foot came up and hit it just above the lock.  As it flew inwards, he let his momentum carry him into the apartment.

Letting his staff out to its full length, he surveyed the room as he had done the building.  It was a decent sized room, clearly decorated by someone with good taste, with distinctly minimal taste.  Sofa, chairs, books, no ornaments or paintings.  The walls were a stark white, making the room seem larger, particularly in the bright sunlight pouring through two large windows opposite the door.  There was a doorway off to the left that was probably the bedroom and a large opening on the right that gave a clear view into the kitchen.   

And it was this view that had his attention.

"LeBeau." The gravelly voice was all too familiar.  The tall figure stood half in, half out of the kitchen, holding a semi-conscious girl in his arms.  Remy guessed she had to be Louisa Gavin, but she must have dyed her hair.  Deciding to worry about her later, he kept his eyes on the man holding her.  The kitchen behind him was sparse – she clearly wasn't a keen cook – with a cooker of the shiniest stainless steel giving a perfect reflection.  

"You gonna stay behind de wall, girl, or you gonna come out where I can see you?"

She walked, or rather sidled out from behind the protecting wall.  Behind him, Remy heard Rogue inhale sharply.

"Hi there, stranger.  Long time no see."

"You always bring y'girlfriend wit'you on de job, Scalphunter?"

Rogue had come up to stand beside him.  "Ah thought you were in the Savage Land."  

One of the few things Remy knew of what had gone on down in Antarctica was that the team had tangled with the mutates, including Vertigo.  Storm seemed to have put everyone off talking about it in detail

"Savage Land?"  Vertigo laughed.  "Sorry, girlfriend.  Wrong me."

Gambit caught up faster than Rogue.

"Cloned you again, did he?  So there's two Vertigoes running round now?"

"What can I say?  Something about two heads being better than one, perhaps?"

"'Cept what's in yours belongs to Sinister, don't it."  It was not a question.  Every time Sinister cloned his Marauders he found a way to make them more obedient to him.  He could only hope that their current programming didn't order his death, just to deal with interference.  At the moment, if Scalphunter wanted him dead, he'd pretty much had it.  The man himself hadn't said a word, watching the exchange silently.  Grey Crow was never one for chatter, even before Sinister messed with his genes.

Gambit decided bravado might be called for.

"You been introduced to de lady, or is this jus' a cold call?"  He kept his tone light, bantering, while keeping a tight grip on his staff.  He could sense Rogue also bracing herself for a fight.  At least he could rely on her to keep one of them off his back.

"Stay out of our way, Gambit.  I don't want to have to move you."

Bingo.  No 'kill Gambit on sight' order, then.  He decided not to be insulted that Sinister no longer considered him enough of a threat to bother with.  Right now he'd take every advantage he could get.  Grey Crow had been his friend once and might shoot to warn before he shot to kill.  Of course he might not, but there was no point being pessimistic yet.  As this thing in front of him was his friend in body only, Gambit felt no such compunction, however hard it was to remember that this was not the man he had known, and killed at least once before.

Before he could make a witty reply, Rogue broke in

"Ain't gonna happen, metal mouth."  

He grinned.  She sure had a way with men.

"Jus' put her down an' we all walk away from dis."

"You going to make me?"  Scalphunter's tone was mocking.  "I heard you got problems.  Heard you went and lost your powers.  Careless."

"You t'ink I need powers to deal with trash like de two of you?"  It was perhaps a little stronger than he'd intended, but he wanted his opponent's attention on him, away from the girl.

It seemed to have worked, as Scalphunter's face twisted in a scowl and he dropped the girl from his arms, none too gently, and held out his hand.  Through his powers, the metal on his costume began to shift and change, until he was holding an all too effective weapon. 

As he was taking aim, the figure on the floor groaned and stirred slightly.  Suddenly, a ripple passed through the room, like nothing Remy had felt before.  It was like a strong wind had ripped through him, right through his body.  He grunted slightly and noticed the others were similarly affected.  Vertigo's hand went to her head, Scalphunter shook his and he felt Rogue's hand come down on his shoulder to steady herself.  It came down hard.

"Remy, Ah think…."

Before she could finish, it happened again, harder this time.  Remy remembered the penetrating cold of Antarctica, biting right down to his bones.  That was what this felt like.  That complete and overwhelming feeling that a rushing wind was penetrating right through him.  This time, as it faded, he could feel something else.  And it felt good.  He raised his head to look at Scalphunter.

"Well, mon ami?  We gonna jus' stand here all day?"

In reply, Scalphunter snarled, raised his gun and pulled the trigger.  Remy dived left, Rogue right, both rolling out of danger.  But the expected shower of bullets never arrived.  Poking his head out from behind the sofa, Remy saw Scalphunter looking at his weapon in surprise.

"Powerless, eh?  Look to me like you're de one wit' de problem.  An' you're about to get more."  Remy swung his staff out and planted in the centre of the sofa.  Using it as a vaulting pole, he launched himself across the room. 

He hit Scalphunter with both feet in the centre of the chest.  The bigger man stumbled back, still getting over the surprise of his gun not working.  Rather than land on top of him, Gambit used the impact to spring backwards, landing between the Marauder and the girl. 

"You wan' her, you're gonna have to go t'rough me."  For emphasis, he produced a card from his pocket and charged it.  It was worth it just to see Scalphunter's reaction.  He hadn't thought the man could look any more surprised.  He'd been wrong.

The gloating was short lived, as Gambit felt the room spin under him.  He hadn't forgotten Vertigo, targeting Scalphunter as the more immediate threat.  Her power was disabling him, and he clung to the card, desperately trying not to let it explode in his hand or anywhere he didn't want it to.  Then gravity reasserted itself, and he fell to his knees in relief.  Behind him, he heard bodies hit something in the kitchen, pots and plates clattering.  It had taken Rogue longer to cross to the kitchen than he'd expected.

Before he could turn and see what was happening, Scalphunter was on him.  The bigger man wasn't as good hand to hand, but he hadn't just been hit by Vertigo's powers.  Remy was carried backwards by the charge and lunged to one side, carrying the fight away from the prone figure of Louisa Gavin.  As he warded off the kicks and blows, his staff blurring, he tried to see what was happening in the kitchen.  If his powers were back, then hopefully Rogue's were as well.  He thought so, judging by the ache in his shoulder where her hand had landed.

Rogue was, in fact, enjoying every moment of having her strength back.  She had hit Vertigo from the side, tackling her to the floor.  Now she was concentrating on stopping the other woman from recovering, although, to give Vertigo credit, she was warding off more blows than Rogue would have expected.  With Rogue's skill, there was no real doubt about the outcome, although she really didn't want to kill the woman, just stop her.  Finally she managed to land a sweet blow to the Marauder's chin.  Vertigo stumbled back, hit the cooker and slid to the floor.

Satisfied that this part of the fight was over for now, Rogue turned back to the main room.  The girl she supposed was Louisa Gavin with a new look was still lying on the floor, showing signs of stirring.  Reassured, Rogue checked on Remy.  He was holding on, but she could see he wasn't going all out.  Grey Crow had been a friend and however much Remy tried to forget, it had to be at the back of his mind as they fought.  Shaking her head, Rogue decided to see how far back her powers had come.  Leaning forwards she was delighted to feel her feet leave the floor instinctively.  Well, if Remy wouldn't help himself, she'd just have to do it for him.

Gambit was backing off, trying to find a chance to end the fight with no-one having to die.  His calves hit the back of the sofa and he knew waiting time was over.  Letting the power flow into his staff, he carried on hitting out with it.  The blows he landed smoked with the small explosions, the strength in the staff preventing it from blowing up.  Just as he thought he was going to have to step up a level, a blue streak flew across the room and hit Scalphunter hard.

The momentum carried the two figures across the room, through the wall and into the bedroom, but Rogue was able to pull up before they flew out of the building, knowing the roof might fall in if they took out the outside wall.  Just as she was about to send Scalphunter to dreamland, she was hit by a wave of nausea.  Forced to let him go, she tried to turn, finding it hard without being able to work out which way was up.  She fell to her knees, exposing Scalphunter to the waves coming from the other side of the room.  He too fell, ending up sitting with his back against the dresser.  Using him as a reference, she managed to turn herself to face Vertigo.  She knew she should have hit harder.

The Marauder was still standing in the kitchen, arms extended, filling the room with her disorienting waves.  Gradually, Rogue became aware of a sound, hard to hear through the chaos in her head.  It was the sound of a girl, screaming in pain.  The sound penetrated through, and Rogue was just able to make out Louisa Gavin, lying in front of Vertigo and clutching at her head.  Gambit caught her eye, and she tried to shake her head.  She felt sick and dizzy, but whatever was happening to her, it looked like Louisa was getting it a hundred times worse.  

Trying to get to his feet, Gambit found the carpet didn't want to stay where it was put and he ended up flat on his face.  He was just grateful there hadn't been anything in the way to hit his head on.  He fought down fresh waves of nausea as he lifted his head to see what was happening.  The screaming was continuing, high and shrill.  He'd heard people scream like that before, but didn't know Vertigo could inflict that kind of pain.

If he hadn't have seen it himself, he wouldn't have believed what happened next.  Still screaming in pain, Louisa Gavin pulled her hands away from her head and held them out towards Vertigo.  He felt the ripple go through the room again, cutting through the dizziness, and realised the girl must be the source of it.  The effect on Vertigo was immediate.  She dropped her arms, a vacant look came over her eyes and she folded up, lying crumpled on the floor.

Pushing himself to his feet, still not quite trusting his balance, Gambit staggered over to the pair.  Louisa had curled herself up and was sobbing quietly, hands once again clutching her head.  Leaning over carefully, Gambit looked down into Vertigo's open eyes.  She was dead.

He heard Rogue and Scalphunter pulling themselves to their feet.  He looked across the room, through the wall.

"You ok?"  

"Ah'm fine.  Hang on."  Rogue turned neatly, smiled and punched as hard as she could.  Scalphunter's head snapped back, then rolled forwards again, grin wide.  

"That all you got?"

"Oh dear."  Rogue was understating.  What a time for her powers to flake out again.  Backing off, to get a better angle, she stumbled in the remains of the wall.  As she struggled to keep her balance, Scalphunter had got complete control of himself and his gun.

"I'm going to enjoy this" He reached them forwards again, eyes meeting Rogue's.  "You know what?  I'll be kind and let you go before your boyfriend."

As Scalphunter took aim, Gambit vaulted the sofa to get to Rogue.  He'd only got about halfway when he caught sight of a movement outside the apartment's open window.  Changing his mind, he grabbed her shoulders instead and pulled her to the ground.  As they fell and the bullets traced across where they had been, a single, bright bolt of lightening came through the window and hit Scalphunter.  It threw him across the room, slamming him into the wall.  He slid to the ground again, and this time he didn't get up.

Rolling over, Rogue still in his arms, Gambit addressed the window.

"You know, Stormy, I t'ink you been working on this whole 'nick of time' t'ing."

"You are welcome, Gambit.  And do not call me that." Storm was hovering outside the window.  She was in street clothes, and Gambit could imagine the looks she was getting from passers by.  Hearing heavy footsteps coming up the stairs, he smiled.  

"You t'ink I should open de door, or is Bishop looking forward t'breakin' it down?"

The decision made itself, as the door was flung inwards.  Surrendering to too much abuse in such a short space of time, it came off its hinges and crashed into the room.

"C'mon in, my friend, join de party"

Bishop surveyed the room.

"I'll say this for you, LeBeau, you never do things by halves"

"No fun any other way"

Rogue shook her head again.  

"You sure have a warped idea of fun, sugah.  You gonna let me up?"

He hadn't realized he'd still been holding on to her, probably out of relief.  And a little surprise that they weren't both spattered all over the walls.  And that his strange foreboding had been right.  Spooky.  Letting go of her shoulders, he kissed the back of her neck.

"You ok, cherie?"

Rogue got to her feet and brushed some of the brick dust from her jeans.

"Ah think so.  All in one piece anyway."

"Always a bonus"

Sage was close behind Bishop, and she too took in the wreck that had once been an apartment.

"Where's this girl who was worth this insurer's nightmare?"

Gambit also took in the trashed kitchen, the burned carpet and the large hole in the living room wall.  

"D'you t'ink de X-men count as an act of God?"

This earned him a grin from Rogue and a glare from Bishop.  Sage seemed to process the statement, and classifying it as 'humorous', dismissed it from consideration.  Giving in, Gambit picked his way through the remains of the furniture to where Louisa Gavin was still lying.

She had stopped sobbing, but remained curled up, rocking slightly back and forth.  Recognising the signs, Gambit crouched down next to her, holding out his hand, not touching her. 

"Louisa?"

She raised her head a little at the sound of her name.

"Louisa?  We're here to help you."

This got her attention.  She murmured something, clearly still terrified.  Leaning close, Gambit was just able to make out what she was saying.

"Them?  You don' have t'worry 'bout them anymore.  We're goin' t'look after you."  Deciding to risk it, he gently touched her cheek.  To his relief she responded by turning her head into his hand.  He looked up at the others.  "She's ok.  But I t'ink we should get out of here.  Someone will've called de cops."

"I'll stay and deal with that."  For once, Gambit was glad to have an ex-cop on the team.  Bishop might not have been his best friend, but he'd keep the heat off of them, at least with the official authorities.  

Turning back to Louisa, he looked at her more closely.  She looked completely different to her photograph, the blonde waves replaced by brown curls, tight and spiraling.  Her eyes were now open and looking up at him, fearfully. They were a deep green, set wide apart in a face that was nothing like he had been expecting.  This girl was pretty, in a homely way, with no similarity to the "cute kid" he had expected.  Still, she was clearly a powerful mutant, and if she was a Gavin, maybe she had used her powers to change her appearance.  It would fit with Jake's abilities, although she clearly had more success.

Deciding explanations could wait, he slipped his hand from her cheek, down her neck to her shoulder, drawing her up against him.  He lifted her easily into his arms, noticing as he did that Rogue had disappeared.  A moment later she stepped back through the gap in the wall, a large holdall over her shoulder.

"Figured she'd want some of her stuff.  She can't exactly send for it."

Agreeing, Gambit tipped his head towards the kitchen.

"De fire escape's out here.  Gonna be better than down through de house."  Gambit nodded a farewell and thanks to Bishop and made his way towards the outer door, Rogue and Sage close behind him.  He let them pass and lower the ladders to the ground.  Storm flew round to meet them.

"Give the child to me, Gambit.  It will be easier for you to descend"

He handed his burden over to Ororo's safe hands and took hold of the top of the ladder.  Keeping his hands on the vertical bars, he braced his feet against the outside as well and slid down quickly.  On reaching the first floor, he vaulted over the railing, executing a perfect somersault and landing neatly in the alley.  He even managed to avoid the more slimy parts of the trash.  Rogue and Sage gave him withering looks.

"Show off."  The comment was barely audible, but it carried well.

Remy grinned and bowed extravagantly.

"If you got it…."

Storm landed neatly beside them, also shaking her head.  She handed the girl back to him

"Whenever you are ready, Gambit, the car is round the corner."

"Don't know what you're all making such a fuss 'bout.  We made it out, didn't we?  Got to let off a little steam"

That didn't even get a look, just the back of the three women's heads as they left the alley.  The police had already arrived at the front of the house and he was grateful to see Sage get behind the wheel.  For all that he loved to take risks himself, Rogue's driving was one of the few things that actually scared him and the last thing they needed now was more police attention.  As it was, Sage pulled away smoothly, past the arriving police cars and into the heaving traffic of the city.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_They also serve who only stand and wait_

_On his Blindness_ by John Milton

They went up to the apartment directly from the garage. Gambit was always careful about the image he presented to the doorman here. It had taken the concierge long enough to get used to jeans and t-shirt.  This kind of entourage would have created too much attention. He was also not entirely comfortable about bringing Storm and Sage back here, to his private bolt-hole. Bringing Rogue hadn't been an issue.  But bringing more people here was definitely not what he had planned. Still, it was too late to worry about it now, and at least with a penthouse there were no nosy neighbours to get past. 

At the door, he let Rogue fumble for her key, not wanting to disturb the still sleeping figure in his arms. Judging by her deep breathing that continued despite the rather bumpy journey and elevator ride, she must have been drugged. If the performance back at the apartment was anything to go by, he could understand the even the Marauders not wanting to deal with her while conscious. Jake's words kept ringing in his ears.

_*****" Especially ones that could blow the lot of us to Kingdom Come if she ever figured out the physics."*******_

He didn't think any of them had taken the warning seriously at the time but the same niggling feeling he'd felt that morning was suggesting that they should.

Rogue had finally located her key and let them in. Ever the gentleman, Gambit indicated for Sage and Storm to enter first, wanting to see their reactions. He knew the apartment looked good, that was why he had chosen it, and their appreciative stares were more than worth it. Sage seemed particularly interested in the painting over the fireplace. Gambit just hoped she didn't keep an eye on the art world as well as the mutant one. That painting had cost him a week's surveillance and a hard night's work although somehow he didn't think Sage would appreciate that. 

Rogue had already disappeared through to the bedrooms, and he could hear her opening one of the doors.

"Make y'selves at home, ladies. Coffee machine's t'rough dere, although I guess y'know better by now than t'let 'Ro make it." This last comment was addressed to Sage. She rarely smiled, but Gambit thought he saw some amusement in the grey eyes. He chose to ignore the affronted look Storm was giving him. She knew him too well to offended.

"Just for that, Remy, I am tempted to make some and force you to drink it." 

"If you don't mind, Storm, I think I _will_ make it. Otherwise the rest of us will have to drink it as well." The corners of Sage's mouth twitched slightly as she turned towards the kitchen. Gambit grinned widely before turning away himself to follow Rogue. 

She had chosen the first room off of the corridor, as he would have done, to be close enough to be heard from the living room if necessary. The black bag was sitting on the end of the bed and Rogue was rummaging around in it. The room wasn't big but he didn't think that would bother Louisa too much, not at the moment at least. 

They had to shuffle round each other so that he could lay the sleeping figure on the bed. Now that he had the chance, he looked at her more closely, trying to see any kind of resemblance to the photograph in the file. As the picture had been a head and shoulders portrait, there was no way of telling if she was the same height, shape or size as that girl, but instinct said this was her. Something about the shape of her shoulders perhaps. For all that her overall appearance was vastly different, there was an indefinable something that told him she was the same girl. That and the fact that she'd answered to her name.

"You never seen a girl before, sugah?" Rogue was watching him watching her.

He shrugged. "Jus' tryin' t'see if it's her."

"Is it? Do we have t'send her back if it isn't?"

"You'll have t'wake Scalphunter up first." He came along beside her. "Find anything int'restin'?"

"Just the usual, clothes-wise at least.  I found this in the bottom of the wardrobe." 'This' was a large black file box that Gambit could tell was heavy from the way Rogue was holding it. She flipped it open. The papers inside were seemed to be bank letters, statements, and the usual personal stuff. Rogue flicked through a few papers before handing it to him. 

"You're better with all this money stuff than me. Ah'm goin' to take a shower."

He smiled slowly at her, only to see her expression close.

"Remy," she began.

He held up a hand. "S'okay, chère. We got company anyhow."

"Remy, it's not that. Ah thought....when we got in the car…..Ah thought you noticed." The words came stumbling from her. 

He put his hand on her shoulder, careful to avoid the tears in her shirt. "I kinda hoped it was my electric personality."

This got him a small smile, but she clearly wasn't in a 'comfort me' mood. "Course it couldn't have been the other way round and turned off this one 'stead of the other, could it?" 

Despite the tangled grammar, Gambit knew what she meant. Whatever Louisa Gavin had done back there, it had switched off the access Rogue had to her strength and flight, while leaving her absorption power on. He pulled her into his arms, ignoring the fact that every muscle in her body was stiff and protesting. 

"It's gonna be ok, Rogue. We'll be ok." His voice was muffled by her hair.

She didn't yield to him at all and after a moment she pulled out of his embrace. 

"Ah'm gonna take that shower. You could use one y'self." 

He had no doubt that he looked as untidy as she did, probably worse in fact. But their uniforms had protected them, even if the t-shirts and jeans had probably had it. He reached out and tousled her hair, sending up a small cloud of brick dust.

"I'll use the main bathroom. Take your time." 

"D'you think we should leave her alone?"

He followed her gaze at the sleeping figure on the bed.

"Don' see why not. They had to give her enough of whatever it was to let them transport her somewhere. I'm guessin' she'll be out of it for a while yet."

"'Kay. You'd better go make sure Sage and Storm are lookin' after the place." She smiled at him and was gone, heading to the main bedroom and no doubt a long hot shower. The sound and the water would give her the privacy she needed right now. And wash away any traces of tears.

Shaking himself out of his reverie, Remy forced himself to head back into the living room. Rogue knew they had other things to deal with right now. Coping was for now, dealing could wait.

Storm was sitting by the window, the file on Louisa Gavin open in front of her. She looked up as he entered.

"I thought you would be taking a shower yourself." 

Gambit shrugged. "Jus' wanted to check you found everythin'. I see you did." He indicated the file.

"Having saved her life, I felt the least I should do was know a little about her. Although I am somewhat puzzled, given the fact that the girl in this photograph bears little resemblance to the one we brought back with us." It was phrased as a statement, but Gambit knew it was really a question.

"Your guess is as good as mine, Stormy. Though if she's Jake's cousin, she prob'ly shares the family powers. Ok, Jake's havin' a few problems with them at the moment, but if she isn't, she could look like anything she wants."

As he was speaking, Sage came out of the kitchen carrying two cups of coffee. At her questioning look, he shook his head.

"Thanks; keep mine hot. I really do need to go shower. Make y'selves at home." He left them looking through the file together.

Standing under the spray, he was grateful he'd chosen a large apartment this time. The last penthouse he'd owned had only had the master bathroom. He'd grown quite fond of this place, bought during his exile from the X-men. It had been somewhere none of them had known about and all thieves needed a place to lie low sometimes. Nevertheless, he'd grown too attached to the place, confirmed when he'd 'acquired' that painting for it. Interior decoration wasn't usually his thing. He would have to detach himself from it now. He trusted Storm, and probably trusted Sage and Bishop as well if it came to it, but he could never be comfortable hiding where people could find him. He felt it defeated the point. It was also a reminder that while he could fight alongside them, be friends with them, there was always a part of him that belonged elsewhere, to New Orleans and the Guild. Living two lives was nothing new; it was just a little harder when there were two of you trying to live them.

After his shower, he took a minute to check himself in the mirror. There were only a few cuts and scrapes on his arms, the uniform having protected him from the worst of the blows. Apart from a rather nasty bruise on his right side, he'd got off lightly. He carefully avoided looking at the small white line on his stomach, echoed by the one on his back. Beast had done a good job of stitching him back up so there was no raised scar, but the mark had remained pale compared to his swarthy colouring. He also knew he was still thinner than he should be, with as many ribs showing as muscles. There hadn't been time for any serious workouts, even if he'd been allowed to do them. Maybe he'd have to make the time now. Denial was comforting, but it had an annoying habit of falling apart in the face of reality. 

Wrapping himself in a towel, he bundled up the ruined t-shirt and held up the jeans for examination. Generally speaking, he didn't mind them ripped. However these were beyond ripped and were verging on ruined. After a moment's hesitation he decided on ruined and wrapped them round the t-shirt. He was in and out of the master bedroom quickly, grabbing what he needed and hurrying back while the shower was still running.  He knew Rogue wouldn't want to see anyone yet and he didn't want to make things more difficult for her.

He was still towelling his hair dry as he entered the lounge, where Sage now had possession of the file. At least that meant they had a back-up copy if anything happened to the paper one. Storm was gazing out of the window at the view of the park. He knew she favoured apartments with large windows and high ceilings. Maybe she'd like to buy this one off him when he decided to sell. A thought struck him.

"Stormy, how'd you like this place as a city base for de team?"

She turned to look at him. "What do you mean? This is your home."

"It used t'be." He kept talking as he headed into the kitchen for coffee. "It's not exactly a secret hideaway when everyone knows 'bout it. But I'm fond of de place now, and you could really use a place in de city rather than have to rent every time." He leant against the doorframe, mug in hand.

Storm had her back to the window now and was watching him closely, looking for the catch. It was Sage who raised the question.

"How much would you want for the place, Gambit? We have substantial resources, but I'm not sure they could stretch to buying this place along with everything else we have to spend."

Storm got in before he could answer.

"Gambit isn't talking about selling to us, are you? He's talking about giving it to us." 

"Got it in one." Gotcha, he thought. It was the first time he'd seen Sage actually surprised.

"I'm not sure I follow."

Pushing off the frame, he came in and sat at the other end of the sofa from her. "Well, y'know how 't'is. I'm hardly here, what with one thing and another. I could transfer it over to 'Ro, then the team'd always have somewhere to come in town. Somewhere to rest your head when needed. That kind of thing."

"We could equally do that if it was in your name, Remy."

Damn. He should have known Storm would pick up on that. He took a mouthful of coffee, buying time before answering. "I jus' thought, what wit'you bein' our esteemed leader an'all, you'd be de better choice." He hoped they took his exaggerated drawl for his usual nonchalant attitude.

Storm clearly wasn't buying it. There was silence for a long moment, although Gambit fancied he could hear the cogs in her brain turning as she composed her reply.

"Very well, Remy," she said at last. "It would be good for us to have a more stable base in the city. However, I believe it will be sufficient for us to have the spare sets of keys rather than transfer ownership." Her serious face softened into a smile. "I can see you are fond of this place and appreciate your generous offer. However, it would be wise for us not to advertise the fact that this is our base. The school is quite public enough. I believe you will have hidden the true ownership of the apartment well and trust that you will keep it hidden. But I will encourage the others to see this as home as well."

Gambit nodded, momentarily and unusually at a loss for what to say. Storm had the annoying gift of being able to see straight through him, so he appreciated her generosity. It would have been a shame to have all his hard work at covering the paper trail go to waste. He raised his coffee mug in a salute of thanks before draining it. Getting up, he picked up their empty mugs from the table and took them into the kitchen.

When he came back, Rogue was entering from the opposite door. Her long sleeved t-shirt and jeans would prevent any inadvertent contact, but he was pleased to see she hadn't put on any gloves. She could trust the people here enough to know that they wouldn't accidentally touch her and she trusted herself enough to be careful as well. He knew she was comfortable here; actually seeing it pleased him more than he'd expected. 

He realised he was staring and rather than be embarrassed he continued in a long, appreciative look, clearly liking what he saw. She smiled back, shaking her head slightly at his frank gaze, before turning to Storm.

"Ah checked in on the girl as I came through. She's still out cold."

"They must have wanted to take her somewhere quite a distance away." Storm looked at her watch. "It has been well over an hour since the attack."

"Any news from Bishop?" 

Sage fielded this one. "He called in while you were in the shower. The police were suspicious, but he thinks he put them off investigating too closely. The Feds could be a problem, so hopefully all they'll find is a dead end and 'suspicious mutant activity', which is nothing too unusual at the moment." She leant down and opened the bag that she had brought up from the car. There were several pairs of the red glasses they all used, as well as some more expensive looking equipment. "I was able to gather some data back there, and together with Bishop's, we might be able to get a better idea of what we're dealing with." She unfolded a pair of glasses and put them on. 

Gambit had been impressed with them, finding the strange red tint they gave the world too distracting to wear constantly. Leaving her to the analysis, he picked up the black file box from the coffee table. 

"You bring dis in?" he asked Rogue.

"Thought that since we were here and waiting for her to wake up, it might be worth takin' a peek. An' you're better at money stuff than me. At least," she considered, "this kinda finance."

"The dodgy kind, you mean?"

Storm looked up sharply at this, trying to gauge if he was offended or flattered. As a matter of fact, he was neither, just surprised that Rogue had suggested rifling through the papers. They were both so fiercely protective of their privacy, it seemed strange for her to suggest violating someone else's.

She just shrugged. "There's something dodgy goin' on, Remy. Got to be. An' if you're pretendin' you know nothin' 'bout that kind of thing….." She left the statement hanging.

"Not pretendin' anyt'in', chère. Jus' checking I understood you right." He opened the file and scanned the first few pages. "Didn't know savin' someone's life included dis kinda thing."

Storm clearly felt the need to intervene. "Normally I would agree with you, Remy. However, this situation is more serious than a runaway child and there may be information in that file to help us get to the bottom of it. I feel sure you will be able to tell one way or another. And keep it to yourself if it does not concern us." 

"Fine. De group vote seems t'be in favour, so I'll have a look. Don' blame me if dere's not'in' more interestin' than where she shops regularly." He took the file to a table by the window, sitting with his back to the rest of the room. A comfortable quiet descended. He moved through the pieces of paper, gathering what information he could.

Behind him, he could hear Sage's regular breathing as she manipulated the gathered data; Storm moving about in the kitchen, probably looking to make lunch; Rogue helping her, occasionally talking softly, occasionally humming snatches of tunes under her breath. 

He had reached the bottom of the file, without really knowing what he was looking at. What was clear was that Louisa Gavin was definitely involved in some creative accountancy. There were accounts in about five different names, only one of which was hers. He glanced at the clock on the desk. It had taken him about 45 minutes, and that was just skimming. 

Rogue, he guessed, left the kitchen, heading towards the bedrooms. She was only gone a moment, returning as quietly as she had gone. Clearly their guest was still sleeping peacefully. Gambit turned back to the file. 

Lying under all the pieces of paper was a slim black notebook. The pages were filled with a neat, rather childish handwriting. There were initials and numbers on almost every page up to the half-way point of the book. Gambit guessed that this was the key to the paperwork and started to try to unscramble it. It was hard going at first, as he didn't want to risk writing anything down, but as he got more familiar with the system, it began to unravel in front of him.

Absorbed in the work, he was only dimly aware of people coming and going. He heard the front door open once and, without looking round, raised a hand to wave 'hello' to Bishop. Then he continued. 

When he finally looked up, he noticed absently that two hours had passed. Bishop was installed on the sofa, polishing one of his guns and offering opinions to Sage. Storm and Rogue had provided sandwiches all round - there was one at his own elbow, untouched - and were now talking softly together at the other end of the room. 

He still had a few pages of the notebook to go through, when something had made him look up. At first he couldn't identify the feeling, just a vague sense of unease. Then it came more strongly. He was on his feet and to the door almost before anyone else had looked up. 

"She's awake." He threw the statement over his shoulder as he passed through to the bedrooms. He listened for a moment at the door, then decided to knock. If she was scared, perhaps that would reassure her that she wasn't a prisoner. When there was no answer, he knocked again. The others had stayed in the living room, not wanting to crowd the girl, who was probably terrified. 

When there was no answer to his second knock, Gambit took a deep breath and opened the door.

****

He wasn't quite sure what to expect. Probably confusion, a little fear, maybe a bit of anger if she had any spirit. But he was at least expecting her to be awake. Instead, he found her barely conscious, bleary eyes trying to focus on the world around her. He'd felt her reaching out, felt the same kind of effect she'd had at her apartment. It had been a mere fraction of the strength, but it was unmistakable. He figured it must be a kind of automatic reaction, more instinct than thought. Making a mental note to ask, he sat down gently on the edge of the bed.

"Louisa?" He spoke softly, not wanting to startle her. Although she made no effort to look at him, he felt the - what was the word for it? Pulse? - intensify around him.

Quickly he said, "S'okay, p'tite. Remember me? I'm wit' de ones who rescued you."

This time she did turn her head, eyes opening.  As she drew in breath to speak, it caught in her throat and she started to cough. Gambit grabbed the glass of water from the bedside table and helped her take a sip. Leaning back against the pillows, she tried again.

"Who are you?" Her voice was soft, scared.

"Mos' people start with 'where am I?'"

"Or 'what do you want?'" 

"True." He helped her sit up a little. "Which do you want to know first?"

She frowned, obviously confused. "I'm not sure. I can't seem to……focus properly."

Not wanting her to drift off again, Gambit decided to take the initiative. "Lesse if I can help. We pulled you out of your apartment." He paused again, considering the best way of phrasing it. "Do de names 'Scalphunter' and 'Vertigo' mean anythin' to you?" When she shook her head, he continued. "'fore we got there, they drugged you wit' somethin'. Dat's prob'ly why you can' focus. It should wear off. Dey didn't wan' t'hurt you, just take you."

"And you?" She had the fear under control now. "How did you find me? Why did you?"

"Were asked to by y'cousin, Jake." That got a reaction. Her eyes widened further and she looked away, processing the new information. 

"Have you told him that you've found me?" 

"Not yet." His suspicions deepened as she exhaled the breath she probably hadn't realised she was holding. "Thought if you were hidin' you prob'ly had a good reason." 

"I did." If she'd noticed the implied question, she'd chosen to ignore it. 

"Okay. Guess that can wait. What else was there?"

She smiled weakly. "'Who are you?', I think"

"Oh yeah. My name's Remy. Ororo, Rogue, Sage and Bishop are in de living room, dyin' t'know what we're talkin' 'bout, but tactful 'nough t'wait."

Her smile broadened a little. "I'm guessing you're not with the NYPD"

"Nope. Strictly unofficial."

"Good."

Although she wouldn't look at him, Gambit thought they had made enough progress to push a little.

"Mind tellin' me why those two lowlifes were so keen t'get their hands on you?"

There was a longer pause this time. Her eyes closed, apparently considering how much she could say. Not wanting to rush her, Gambit waited patiently. Finally she opened her eyes again and when she spoke it was slowly and cautiously.

"I'm not exactly sure. If you spoke to Jake, you know I'm a mutant, like you." He didn't bother asking how she knew, adding it to the mental checklist. "I can only assume they want me for what I can do."

She'd left an obvious opening for him. "What is that, 'xactly?"

She pressed her lips together, again considering how to answer. As she did so, there was knock at the door.

"May I enter?" Storm leant round the door. When Louisa nodded her assent, she came into the room. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I was drugged and nearly kidnapped. By the way," she turned to Gambit, her vacant eyes still not meeting his.  "I don't think I thanked you for saving me, did I?"

"Not yet. But I was sure you'd get around to it."

"I'm sure I would have. Thank you." 

This done, she closed her eyes and leant back against the pillows. Storm came into the room and sat on the opposite side of the bed to Gambit. "Do you need anything? Lunch, perhaps?"

The girl smiled. "Lunch would be good, thank you. And I suppose you've got about as many questions as I have."

"We will take it in turns."

Gambit got off the bed before he could be dismissed. "I'll go see if there's anythin' left in de kitchen. Wit' Bishop here you can never be sure." As he left, he looked back. She certainly looked worn out and pale, but she seemed to be coping alright at the moment. Closing the door behind him, he wondered if she knew what she had done to Vertigo.

Back in the living room, he reported progress to the others and asked after the sandwiches. Rogue nodded and went out to the kitchen. Bishop had moved to a chair nearer the window for better light and was still methodically polishing.

Gambit turned his attention to Sage. "Get anywhere wit' de analysis?"

"Somewhere." She offered him a pair of glasses. 

"S'okay" he went over and rummaged in one of the desk drawers. "We kept them safe." Well, the 'kept them' part was true. Locating them at the back of the drawer and blowing off the dust, he sat down in one of the armchairs and put them on.

The red lenses filled with numbers and images, just about recognisable as the trashed apartment. Sage's voice was as dispassionate as ever.

"I did a detailed analysis of the data gathered by myself and Bishop at the apartment." The images swirled as she adjusted the view. This time he saw an extreme close up of what he assumed was a wall. At least, it was large and white, so unless the glasses had broken….. "There was nothing to indicate any kind of damage as a result of the wave you described. That was until I had Bishop focus more closely on one area. You can see here," an area of the whiteness was highlighted and enlarged even further, "that there is very minor damage to the room on a microscopic level."

"You tell me it's there, Sage, I'm gonna believe you."

Ignoring him, she continued. "The change was hardly severe enough to be called damage, but it was there."

"Meanin'?"

"I can't be definite without further data."

"Best guess?"

"I try not to guess, Gambit."

"Jus' for me?"

She shook her head. "I can only draw the obvious tentative conclusion that she is some kind of telekinetic." In a rare moment of sarcasm, she added, "That means she can move things with her mind."

"Thanks. I t'ink I got that. Is this standard for a teke?"

Sage considered. "Unusually powerful perhaps, in someone young. Telekinesis varies from mutant to mutant, from those such as Phoenix whose power is only limited by her imagination, to those who would struggle to lift a book. It's not even clear whether this is the only thing she can do, or if it is just one aspect of her powers."

Rogue had returned with another plate of sandwiches and Gambit helped himself to one, thinking as he ate. 

"I t'ink she can do more." 

"You got privileged information, sugah?" Rogue had perched herself on the arm of his chair. He leant back to see her better.

"Not 'xactly, but I could feel her doin' somet'in."

"That's how you knew she was awake before we did."

"Right. I could feel her reachin' out. It wasn't as powerful as what she did to de apartment but it was de same."

"And you felt this but none of us did."

Before he could reply, the door opened and Storm led Louisa into the lounge.  The girl still looked pale and tired, but was managing to stand on her own two feet. She accepted the offer of the soft armchair with a grateful smile and sat down carefully.

"How y'doin'?" Rogue asked.

Louisa's smile became rueful. "I seem to have gotten a little bruised, although I don't remember how exactly."

Gambit and Rogue exchanged a look. If they started explaining in too much detail, things were going to get complicated. Better to wait and see. 

Storm was passing Louisa a sandwich so she wouldn't have to get up. They all watched as she took a bite, then looked up at them.

"Am I doing this wrong?" she said, amused at their stares.

Far from being embarrassed, Gambit continued his close examination, as he had done when she'd been asleep.

"Just tryin' to spot any similarities."

She looked confused. "To Jake?"

"To de girl in de photo he gave us. Get bored of blonde?"

He'd thought the tone was light enough to pass, but clearly not. The colour rose in her cheeks and she dropped her eyes. 

"What do you want from me?"

The X-men looked at each other, puzzled by the remark. Storm, sitting closest, put a hand on the girl's knee.

"Nothing, child. We want to help you, if you let us."

"Help me?" Louisa repeated. "That sounds strange. Most people I meet are more interested in how I can help them."

"You clearly have a remarkable power." Storm's tone was gentle. Gambit had forgotten that Storm had played surrogate mother to several young X-men. She knew how to handle a frightened teen. He rested an arm round Rogue's waist and waited. 

Louisa took another bite of sandwich before answering.

"I'm telekinetic. Not just big things, not just small things. I can go right down to the molecular level, move atoms about." 

Behind him, Gambit heard Bishop whistle softly. It wasn't even what he'd been expecting. It was certainly in line with the rest of the Gavin family powers and it would explain how she'd changed her appearance.

The next question came from Sage.

"To what extent?" When all she got was a perplexed frown, she continued. "I mean, can you just move individual atoms, molecules? And how far away from them can you be?"

Louisa's face cleared. "I see what you mean.  Let's see if I can summarise the usual answers." She thought for a moment. "I can move solid objects - the atoms are so tightly linked it makes it easier. I can also rearrange the individual atoms in a solid object, although the less solid, the easier it is. I have a range of about two metres for moving things, a bit further for sensing them." 

Something at the back of Gambit's mind was bothering him again, although he couldn't quite put his finger on it yet. Pushing it to one side, he tuned back in to what Sage was saying

"That's how you see." It was a statement, not a question. 

Louisa nodded. "I can sense the atoms around me and build them up into a picture of what's out there. That's why my range is only about three or four metres."

Sage nodded. "Any further than that and there'd be too much information for your brain to process. Fascinating. How long have you been able to do this?"

"It started when I was about ten. Uncle Jacob thought I was going mad at first. My brain couldn't process the information. But what with Jake going through the same kind of thing, he was able to find someone to help me. She helped me shut down the signals. Get them to a level I could cope with. It's taken me years to get up to the level I'm at now."

"Could you go further?"

She shrugged again. "Maybe. At the moment I don't want to." She looked up, her eyes not focussing on anyone, just taking them all in. "Do you understand now why I asked you what you wanted? I've been asked to do everything from redecoration to life-saving surgery."

At the last word, the piece fell into place in Gambit's mind. The surprise pushed him out of his chair.  Momentarily and unusually embarrassed, he went over to the window. Rogue was also on her feet, pulled by his momentum. She followed him and turned him round to face her. 

"What is it, sugah?"

He gestured angrily. "That's what he wants her for." Seeing that even she was lost, he spat the word. 

"Sinister. That's why he wants her." Rogue was still frowning. "Don' y'see? He manipulates genes, cells, DNA. Last time I checked, that was a pretty big molecule. An' she can see it, can't y'?" Without waiting for her to answer, he pressed on, "Y'knew I was a mutant before I told you. You could see it, see right down to the cells, couldn't you? Imagine what Sinister would do with that kind of ability. He wouldn't need a lab, he'd just need her."

He was vaguely aware that Rogue had her hands on his shoulders and was trying to calm him down. The red haze that usually descended when he thought about Nathaniel Essex cleared a little and he realised he must have terrified Louisa.

"M'sorry" he mumbled to no-one in particular and stalked out of the room. For a long moment, none of them moved. Rogue, torn between following and giving him some space, stood like a statue by the window. 

Finally Storm stirred herself and turned to Louisa. The girl was looking concerned, but no more than anyone else.

"Are you alright?"

Louisa jumped. "Huh? Oh, yes. I'm fine."

Deciding the best thing to do was to move on, Storm continued, "It might be helpful for all of us if you could tell us why you ran away."

"I suppose it might." Her brow furrowed in concentration, clearly trying to compose a suitable answer. 

The second silence was too much for Rogue. Without apology or comment she hurried from the room after Remy ignoring the sympathetic glances from her teammates.

She found him, as expected, in the main bedroom. Facing the same way as the living room, it had stunning views across the city and park. She was sure that its beauty and brilliance had been Remy's way of balancing the dark and loneliness of other parts of his life. He was sitting looking at the view now, perched on the edge of the bed with his back to her, apparently entranced by what he could see.

"Hey."

He raised his head a little, but didn't turn round.

"Ah would ask if you're ok, but Ah guess that's a stupid question."

"I'm fine." His voice was soft and calm now. She came around the bed and sat beside him. Glancing at her, he asked, "How's Louisa?"

"Fine, Ah think."

"Good." He nodded absently. "Ev'ry time I t'ink I got away from m'past…"

"It catches ya up and slaps y'in the face."

He smiled wryly. "Or kicks me in de ass. I'm never gonna be free of him, Rogue. No matter how much I kid m'self, he's always there."

"Ah know. Ah may not like it, but Ah know."

Her simple acceptance surprised him and gave him the encouragement he needed to continue. "Wasn't such a big deal wit' only m'self t'look after, but I got responsibilities now." He turned his head towards her, his red eyes glowing fiercely. "An' not jus' t'you. D'you know how long it is since I been home?"  He looked away again, returning to the view.  "Some Guild Master, eh?"

"Ah know, Remy." She was starting to feel like a broken record. "But…"

"You don't know Rogue, none of you do." His tone softened, his mind thousands of miles away. "I've got responsibilities," he repeated. "It's more than jus' bein' team leader of de X-men. It's heart and soul and duty and family, or at least it should be. I left them jus' about peaceful, but I stay 'way much longer…" He left the sentence hanging.

Rogue was still trying to console him. "Don' be so hard on y'self, Remy. You keep an eye on things. You're always talkin' about what's goin' on down there." She trailed off as he shook his head.

"An email ev'ry coupla days ain't not'in' like bein' dere. I do m'best, but," he spread his hands out, helplessly, "They made me Guild Master, Rogue. An' de first t'ing I did was get de hell outta town."

"Oh c'mon, they must know-"

"Must they?" He interupted her. "All they know is ev'ry so often I vanish off t'my superhero friends an' de next time they see me, I'm lyin' half-dead on TV."

Rogue was getting angry herself now. "Is that really what you think of the X-men? Of _us_? Some second-rate alternative?"

"Not second-rate, chère. You should know better than that."  His voice was quiet and, she realised, resigned "I've got a duty t'these people. A blood-oath isn't somethin' you can jus' ignore.".

"You're runnin' again, ain't ya?" She tried to match his cool tone, despite the anger was rising hot in her now. "Things have got hard again, haven't they? We might actually have t'deal with some of the difficult stuff 'stead of keep on ignorin' it, so you decide to bail."

"Is that really what you think of me, Rogue?" he echoed. "You think I only jus' decided dis? You think dis is jus' 'bout us?"

"What else am Ah s'posed t'think?"

"Dat maybe I want you t'come wit'me."

Rogue felt her heart leap into her throat. The surprise had left her momentarily speechless. When he got no answer, Gambit kept going.

"I don' promise it'll be easy on you. De Guild's not 'xactly welcomin' to outsiders, I jus' thought we could try."

For a moment she just stared at him, fighting the impulse to throw her arms around him and kiss him. That amongst all the other things going on, with Louisa Gavin and half the X-men and Marauders and Sinister to worry about, he still thought about them first. A hundred things were running through her head and she didn't have the words for any of them. Before she could pull herself together, he spoke again.

"I know it's asking' a lot of you, chère, but-"

"Remy, Ah - " When their eyes met, she felt a jolt of electricity shoot down her spine. 

Words suddenly seemed unnecessary. She leant against him and he wrapped his arms around her.

**************************************************************************************************************************

Louisa's sentence trailed off as all eyes turned to look at the returning couple. Gambit untangled his arm from Rogue's and went over to her. Crouching down next to her chair, his eyes were about level with hers.

"Sorry if I scared you, p'tite."

She smiled, understanding. "You didn't scare me. We all have things we'd rather not think about." 

Feeling that was settled, he got up again and threw himself down onto the other end of the sofa. 

"So. What d'we miss?"

"Louisa was just about to give us a small demonstration of her powers."  Storm explained.

Gambit looked over.  "Wit'a pencil?"

Louisa just smiled.  "That's about it."  She was turning the pencil round in her fingers, apparently feeling every contour and splinter individually.  Satisfied with her examination, she broke it in half and wrapped her hands around the two pieces.  Her eyes closed, she gently rubbed her hands together.

For about a minute, nothing happened, except that Remy had run down his reserves of patience.

"Would it help if we all did that?  Kinda like a séance?" 

This earnt him a glare from Storm and a light cuff round the ear from Rogue.  Only the corners of Louisa's mouth twitched.  After another minute of fidgety silence, she opened her eyes.  Looking directly at him, she smiled properly this time.

"Didn't you know that everything comes to he who waits?"

Gambit was about to produce a witty yet cutting reply to this when she opened her hands.  Lying there amongst the splinters of wood that had been a pencil was a small, perfect diamond.

There was no fidgeting in the silence that followed this time.  Even Bishop looked impressed and Gambit knew that behind Sage's calm expression she was already coming up with uses for this remarkable ability.  Storm reached out and took the diamond, holding it up to see the light play across its facets.

"That the real t'ing, Stormy?"

Everyone, even Sage, jumped a little as Remy spoke into the silence.  Wordlessly, Storm passed him the jewel.  He too held it up to the light.  It wasn't large by anyone's standards, but it was completely flawless and beautifully cut.  Or at least _looked_ beautifully cut.  Dragging his eyes away from its valuable glow, he looked at Louisa Gavin.  She was brushing the last of the splinters from her hands into the ashtray on the coffee table.  Feeling his stare, she sat back in the armchair taking up her abandoned mug and swirling it round, apparently unconcerned at the others' surprise.  Gambit watched her for a long moment, turning the possibilities over in his mind as he turned the diamond in his fingers.

Finally, he said, "Carbon"

Louisa sipped her coffee to hide the fact that her smile had become a grin.

Sage nodded in agreement.  "Remarkable."

"And for those of us without a chemistry degree?" rumbled Bishop

"Graphite in pencils is pure carbon." Sage explained, "Just as diamonds are pure carbon.  In theory, if you leave diamonds for a few million millennia, they'll turn to graphite, which is a more stable form.  Forcing them back the other way must take some doing."

The last sentence was addressed to Louisa, who shrugged, still swirling her coffee.

"Takes practice, but once you know how…." She shrugged again.  "It's a living."

Sensing an opening, Gambit leant forward and put the diamond on the table between them.

"That's how you survived wit'out de Gavin fortune."  If he'd hoped the statement would surprise her into answering, he'd underestimated her.

Matching his tone, she replied, "Amongst other things"  He wondered if she'd guessed they had her files and knew about her 'creative accountancy'.   She clearly had guessed that this wasn't nearly enough for any of them.  Sighing, she put down her coffee mug and answered a different question.

"Look, let me just give you the headlines.  Uncle Jacob wanted me to work for certain groups interested in my powers.  I refused.  We argued.  I ran away."  She spoke in a flat, unemotional voice, with the air of someone who'd already told the story too many time.

"If they're de headlines, what's de story?"  asked Gambit

"Remy"  Storm's voice carried a warning.

"Non, 'Ro.  We, well you guys, saved her life.  I t'ink we're entitled to a bit more than jus' de headlines."  He turned to Louisa.  "'M not tryin' t'get at you, p'tite.  But it'd help if we knew what was goin' on.  Saves mistakes further down the road.  Trus' me on that one."

He could have sworn he felt the temperature in the room rise at his last statement.  As they all knew, he was the expert when it came to secrets.

Whether Louisa recognized and responded to his sincerity or the inquisitive stares of the rest of the X-men, he wasn't sure.  When she spoke again, it was clear she was choosing her words carefully.

"Actually, there's not much more to it than I've already told you.  When Uncle Jacob found out exactly what I could do he began contacting groups he thought might be interested in my…." She searched for the word.  "Services."

"Whether you like it or non, huh?"

"You got it.  Actually I suppose I should be flattered that so many people were prepared to pay so much for me."  She laughed without much humour.  "Anyway Uncle Jacob chose the best bid and then informed me where I'd be going to college."

"Ah'm sorry?  Ah think you lost me there,"  put in Rogue

"The group in question had its facility near the campus.  They thought it'd be better if I kept going to school and worked for them on the side.  Less suspicious.  What they hadn't counted on was my not really wanting to got work for them.  Uncle Jacob said I had to; I said I didn't; he said he'd cut me off without a cent; I said I didn't care as I'd come into my own money at 18 anyway; and it all went downhill from there really"

"An' ended wit'you runnin' away."

"Basically.  I had a little saved and knew I could always get more"

"Wit' dose"  Gambit waved a hand towards the diamond still lying on the table between them.

"When I had to."  She smiled ruefully.  "Their quality more than made up for their lack of provenance.  If you talk to the right dealer at least."

_And know how to quietly siphon off bits from the Gavin Fortune _was the unspoken thought, but this probably wasn't the moment to raise that.

She continued, "And it wouldn't matter in 3 weeks' time anyway.  I'm eighteen in 19 days.  Uncle Jacob won't have any hold on me then, and I'll have enough from the various trusts Dad set up for me to live quite well."

Gambit nodded.  The story checked out as far as it went, but it didn't go nearly far enough.

"That's your uncle dealt wit' then.  What 'bout Sinister?"

"I've no idea I'm afraid."  Her expression was helpless.  "I don't know how careful my uncle was about who he approached.  I suppose almost anyone could have heard, if they were interested."

"He'd be interested alright."  Gambit managed to keep his tone fairly neutral, grateful for Rogue's grip on his shoulder.  He looked up at her and found his reassuring smile met with an equally warm one.  

"It's probably best to get you out of the city for now."  Storm suggested.

"Where am I supposed to go?  At least I know New York.  I'm going to be even more vulnerable if I go somewhere else."

"I'm not suggesting you go on your own."

"What about Xavier's?"  Suggested Bishop.  "Or the New York branch of X-Corps?  At least we know they could protect her."

"True.  Although it's not always the safest of environments."

Gambit knew there had been problems between Storm and the Professor, and her cool tone told him it was more than just a tiff.

"It certainly won't be for them if I'm there."  Louisa added.  "While I'm sure the X-men would be fine, I'm reluctant to endanger the students."

"Most of them would be fine too, but I understand your concern."  Storm thought for a moment.  Before she could speak again, Louisa broke in.

"Look, I really appreciate all you've done, and if I had any way of repaying you, I would, but I guess you folks aren't in it for the money.  As it is, I owe you, big time.  But I've disappeared before and I can do it again.  There's plenty of cities out there.  I'll just have to pick one."

The X-men exchanged a look.  

"That won't cut it, p'tite.  Sinister has ways of tracking people down, 'specially when they don't want t'be found."

"Remy" Rogue barely breathed his name, but he understood.

Equally quietly he asked, "Vous permittez, cherie?"

There was a reluctant acceptance on her face.  She nodded quickly.  "Oui."

Gambit took a deep breath before speaking.  

"I need t'take a trip home, 'Ro.  She can came wit'us.  De Guild'll look after her."

Sage frowned.  "Why would they?"

"F'r one, they'll do what de Guild Master – that would be me – tells 'em.  F'r another, they can't resist a damsel in distress any more than I can.  An' f'r a third," he leant forward and picked up the diamond from the coffee table, "can you make more of these?"

Louisa's broad smile mirrored his own.

"Until you run out of pencils."

_______________________________________________________________________________________________

It was decided to wait until the next day to head out of town.  Louisa was starting to pale again, and Gambit knew that he and Rogue could certainly use a night's rest.  They'd hit the ground running when they reached New Orleans, and he wanted to sleep while he could.  It also gave him time to make his own special traveling arrangements.

Despite this, it looked like the time before they left was going to be taken up with a debate over who should be coming with them.  As first all three of the X-men had wanted to come, until the difficulty of taking a cop to the Guild of Thieves was pointed out.  Bishop had argued that with the Marauders looking for them, they needed all the back-up they could get, until Storm overruled him, agreeing that the Guild might not be willing to help if they arrived with a policeman in tow.

It was when Gambit refused to take Sage that the argument really began.  They went round in circles for a while, until Gambit broke the stalemate.

"De simple fact is that I _won't _take you."

"Gambit, Bishop is right.  You need all the back up you can get."

"We'll have that once we reach N'awlins.  An' as Guildmaster, I can't let jus' anyone wander in."  least of all a living tape and video recorder, he thought.  Out loud, he said, "Stormy has at least her own background as a t'ief.  They won' like it, but they'll accept it."

"And Rogue?  She's not a thief."

He looked at her for a long moment before answering.  "For someone so smart, you sure do ask some dumb questions."

And that more or less settled it, although Bishop and Sage still insisted on accompanying them to the airport.

Louisa had kept silent through the arguing, only reacting when Storm suggested she go put her things together and have a lie down.  She started, nodded and pulled herself out of the chair.  As she left, Storm looked across at Gambit.  Understanding, he nodded and started to get up himself.

Rogue's hand on his shoulder pushed him back into the cushions.  

"Ah'll go."  Before anyone could argue, she was on her feet and out of the door.

Louisa was gathering up the clothes she'd spread on the bed and folding them neatly before putting the into her holdall.

"Can Ah come in?" Rogue asked from the doorway.

Keeping her back turned, Louisa shrugged. 

"Why not?  It's your apartment."

"Actually it's Remy's, but thanks anyway."  She came in and sat on the bed so Louisa would have to look at her.  What the point was inthat when the girl was blind she wasn't quite sure, apart from making her feel better.  "Y'know, they're only tryin' t'help."

Louisa stopped folding and packing.  "I know that, really I do.  It's just…"  she shrugged again.  "It's like it was with Uncle Jacob, only in reverse.  No-one bothers to ask me what I want to do or what would be best for Louisa the human being.  They've just considered the best place for this dangerous weapon so that no-one else can get their hands on it."

"Ah understand why you'd feel like that."

"I know you know more about this than I do, what with running around saving the world and everything, but it's still frustrating.  Not being in charge of your own destiny."

As ever the word sent a shiver down Rogue's spine.

"Don' ever believe that", she said with sudden warmth.  "No matter how set things seem, you can always change them.  Always."

Louisa frowned at the tone of the other woman's voice.  "You sound like you know something about that."

"Remind me to tell you about Destiny's Diaries sometime."

"I will."  Louisa said quietly.  "Sinister's bad news, isn't he.  I mean, _really_, bad news."

Rogue took a deep breath, deciding not to go into details.  The girl didn't need the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.  Not at this point, anyway.

"Sugah, he's the worst."

Louisa nodded, her frown clearing.  "Then I guess I'm just going to have to trust you guys, aren't I?"

"F'r now you are.  We're not just doin' this for us, you know."

"I know.  How do you manage, always having to take the world into consideration?"

Rogue smiled, standing and putting her hand on the girl's shoulder.  "I'll let you know when I do.  Just let us worry about that now.  You try to get some sleep."

Louisa nodded wearily.  "Thanks.  I'll try."

As Rogue left the room, she turned, hand resting on the handle.  Louisa was lying on the bed, face to the wall, eyes closed.  She looked young and vulnerable, not much like a super-weapon to anyone's eyes.  _And,_ thought Rogue, _she won't be one, not if we can help it_.  

Despite herself, she stopped by the master bedroom to pick up her gloves.  She hated having to wear them around those she loved, but she had enough else going on in her mind without having to think about where she was putting her hands.

Back in the living room, all was peace again.  Bishop and Sage were apparently engrossed in something on the red glasses they were both wearing; Storm was looking out at the view and Remy….

Remy was simply lying on the couch, looking at the ceiling.  For a moment, Rogue thought he was falling asleep, but the vacant look in his eyes came, she knew, from deep thought rather than tiredness.  It had taken her a long time to learn how to read the black depths and the red glow, and even now she couldn't always tell what he was thinking.  However, this was a look she knew.  Louisa's appearance had raised too many uncomfortable memories for Gambit.  He was trying to push them back in, not deal with them now so that he could deal with the task at hand.  

Wandering over, she sat down on the edge of the couch, looking at him.

"You ok, sugah?"

He pulled himself away from wherever it was he'd been and turned his head to her.

"Fine, chére, jus' fine.  Jus'…y'know."  He trailed off.

Rogue nodded.  "Ah know."

He smiled at her – 'number 7, thank you for understanding' – and reached out to take her hand.  

"This ain't gonna be easy for you, y'know.  De Guild's gonna be pretty upset.  And Belle's practic'ly running it day t'day now."

"Ah understand.  Ah think you're more worried than Ah am."

"Mebbe.  I'm not doin' this lightly, Rogue.  Y'know that, right?"

She did know.  For all his _'one day at a time'_s and _'live in the moment'_s, Remy wanted her as much as she wanted him.  This would probably be the closest she'd get to an answer to the previous night's argument.  He had listened, taken her seriously and done something about it.  The next move would be up to her.

"Ah know" she said simply, squeezing the hand that held hers.  Despite the thin cotton of her glove, it was warm and comforting.  "Ah can only do ma best, you know that?"

"That's more than enough for any man"  he tugged at her hand, and she let herself be pulled down against him, careful to rest her cheek on his t-shirt rather than his bare neck.  His arm wrapped around her, the steady rise and fall of his chest underneath their clasped hands was soothing, and she could feel herself drifting off to sleep.  After all, it had been an eventful day.

Gambit also drifted for a while, pleasantly between waking and sleeping, letting the day just melt away.  Trying to ignore the knot forming in the pit of his stomach.  Taking Rogue to the Guild might not be his cleverest idea ever, but it was done now.  He'd just have to face down the trouble as it came.  For now, the warmth of her against him was enough and he decided to let himself doze for a bit.

Being able to wake up on cue was an essential skill for any half decent thief, and he stirred again half an hour later.  Rogue's deep breathing indicated that she was still well away, and he was careful not to disturb her as he slipped off the sofa, grateful he'd chosen one with a low back.  That too had been deliberate – you couldn't be vaulting over high furniture if you needed to make a quick getaway.  The sun had almost set now, and he could see a figure silhouetted against the darkening sky.

"Stormy?"

"Do not call me that, Remy"  she didn't turn to face him, still watching the view of the city.

Gambit grinned.  "You been watching over us?"

"I have been watching over the city.  It is good sometimes to stop and consider things."

"What you considering?"

"Just…things."

"Right.  Them."  Gambit wasn't sure about his friend's tone.  Was it an invitation to talk, or just to share the silence with her?  He padded over to the window, taking the other seat. 

Lights were starting to come on in the various buildings while the darkness of Central Park was becoming deeper.  

"You can nearly see de Met from here."

"Are you considering a job there?" Despite the darkness, Gambit knew she was smiling.

"Nah.  It'd only upset them.  Not 'nough money in it anyway.  No-one'd buy anythin' they knew came from there."

"True."  

They sat in silence for another few minutes, watching the deep red of the sky darken to black.

"You ok, Stormy?"

"As I said, Gambit, do not call me that.  I am fine, thank you."

Right, strike one.  Maybe a more subtle approach?

"We were up at de mansion yesterday"  Was it only yesterday?  It felt like a lifetime ago.

"Rogue told me.  I am sorry, my friend."

Gambit stared out into the darkness.  "Thanks."  Damn.  She'd ambushed that attempt.  Strike two.  Well, if all else failed.

"You gonna tell me, or we jus' gonna sit here de rest of de night?"

Storm considered this for a moment before speaking.

"Thank you, Remy, but I believe I will be fine."

Even Gambit couldn't ignore three strikes.  Giving up, he looked around the now dark apartment.

"Where're Sage and Bishop?"

"They retired to your second bedroom for more analysis."

"Is that what they're calling it these days?"

Storm shook her head, amused but chose not to rise to the comment.  "They are also going to do further research in Jacob Gavin senior.  Since they must remain behind, we thought it would be a good idea for them to do some investigating, since that is their specialty anyway."

"Sounds sensible." However, Gambit knew Storm too well.  "And?"

She shifted in her chair a little.  "I am still a little…uncomfortable…about our traveling to the south without further back up."

"Really."  His tone was neutral, giving nothing away.

"Yes.  I do not believe it is wise.  While I do not underestimate my own abilities, if Sinister sends the Marauders after us…."

"Don't underestimate me either, Stormy."  He was unable to keep all the bitterness out of his voice.  As she opened her mouth to protest so he pressed on.  "I'm Guild Master, Master Thief, and while I don't make claims like Wolvie to be the best, I'm pretty damn good.  Possibly the best at what _I_ do.  You know better than these guys what that means.  I'll get us all the back up we need, don't worry about that."

"Remy…"

"Thieves, Stormy.  They listen t'me.  I'm in charge, remember."  His voice softened a little.  "You trusted me to lead you guys once before.  I'm not saying that worked out perfectly, but we all got out alive."  In fact he still had some nightmares of being turned into a living statue, although he managed not to shudder at the memory, 

"I trust you, my friend."  Storm's voice was firm, killing any doubts either of them might have had.

"T'anks, 'Ro."  He found her hand in the darkness and raised it to his lips.  "Now," he said, getting up, "I gotta make some calls.  You check on Louisa?"

"Sleeping peacefully as of an hour ago."

"I'll look in as I pass."

He left her looking out at the now twinkling city.  Postcards had got nothing on this panorama, he thought, idly wondering when he'd see it again.  Soon, he promised himself, turning his back and going through to the bedrooms.  He could hear low voices from further down the corridor, and Louisa was indeed still sleeping peacefully.  Pushing open the bedroom door he made a mental list of the calls he needed to make.  Seemed it was going to be a busy night.


	4. Thursday

**THURSDAY**

_And miles to go before I sleep  
And miles to go before I sleep_

_Stopping by woods on a Snowy Evening_ by Robert Lee Frost

**NEW YORK******

**MORNING**

The drive to the airport the next day was quiet, with Sage and Bishop staring out of the windows.  Gambit wasn't sure whether they were looking for more Marauders or just sulking.  Either way, at least it was quiet.  And it gave him a chance to find out a bit more about their dangerous companion.

"I'm not tryin' t'pry here, comprends?  But it might help if I knew  bit more of what you can and can't do.  We get into trouble…"

"Then you need to know if I'm an asset or a liability?"  There was no resentment in the question.  There might even have been some humour.

Gambit matched the tone.  "That's pretty much it."

Louisa considered.  "Probably somewhere in between.  I'm not much of a fighter, hand to hand I mean, but I took basic self defence classes.  I can affect things proportional to how close I am to them.  If someone grabs me I can probably make them let go, but if someone grabs you on the other side of the room, I probably can't."

Gambit nodded to himself.  "Bien.  That makes sense."

There was an unspoken agreement between the X-men not to discuss events of the previous day at her apartment.  If she didn't remember what she'd done, this probably wasn't the time or place to tell her.

At the terminal, they left Sage and Bishop at the car.  Four was quite conspicuous enough, and Bishop was big enough for two.  Strolling towards the check in desks, Gambit scanned the area with a casual air.  Rogue and Storm, who knew him too well to be fooled, exchanged a smile. 

"You lookin' for somthin', sugah?" asked Rogue

Gambit grinned.  "Nope.  I found him."

Rogue scanned the crowd, looking for the person looking for them.  She drew a blank until an average looking young man detached himself from the press of people and came towards him.  If she hadn't been  paying attention, she never would have seen him.  Average height, average build, average looks and average brown hair.  Non-descript blue t-shirt and blue jeans, he was, she thought, the perfect thief. 

He smiled, coming up and taking Gambit's hand.

"Good to see you again, Remy."

"An' you David.  Merci for th'assist."

"Not a problem.  Everything's set."

As they talked, the five of them were slowly drifting away from the hubbub of the check in desks.  Rogue was scanning the crowd for anyone taking an unusual interest in them, aware that the others were probably doing the same.  Gambit and David were chatting casually about the latter's family, although Rogue suspected the people mentioned weren't related in the strictest sense of the word.  New Orleans wasn't the only place the Thieves' Guild had influence, and Remy had made quite a few calls the previous evening.

They had made their way to a row of seats near the entrance.  Gambit gestured for Storm and Louisa to sit down, as the girl was still looking drawn even after a night's sleep, while he and David remained standing.  Rogue decided to join them, seeing David pass Gambit a small, ticket-sized envelope.  Apart from it being white not brown, Rogue was not surprised.

"We had a few problems with the girl's picture," he was saying, "so I thought we'd leave the final choice till this morning."

Gambit nodded, his eyes on David as he opened the package.  Rogue's guess had been right.  There were four airline tickets and a selection of ID cards in it.  Gambit rifled through them as he spoke.

"These are very good, mon ami.  You persuade Shaker t'come outta retirement for you?"  Seeing David's sideways glance, he continued in the same, chatty tone.  "This is Rogue, by de way.  She's wit' me."

This seemed to be enough.  "Not exactly.  Old man Shaker's out of it for good now, but he's son's just as good."

"Better, I'd say."  Gambit looked hard at Louisa for a moment, then selected one of the cards, handing the rest back to David.  The tickets disappeared into an inside pocket.  "Thanks, I 'preciate your help."

"As I said, any time."  David paused, choosing his words. "There anything you want to share here?"

Rogue looked at Gambit, who looked at Storm, who looked at Louisa.  Without moving his head, Gambit answered, "What makes you ask dat?"  He was wearing his best 'innocent little me' expression.  David clearly wasn't fooled and carried on looking at the taller man, an expectant expression on his face.  Gambit tilted his head to one side, and at Storm's nod, said,

"Y'know I can' go into details.  But keep your eyes open."

"I usually do.  It helps for not walking into things.  That all I'm going to get?"

Gambit's eyes glowed deeper for a moment as he considered the options.  Deciding, he said, "Names.  Louisa Gavin; Jacob Gavin.  A big, mean mutant, Scalphunter.  Listen out f'r them.  You get anythin', let Bishop or Sage know on this number."

A card appeared between his fingers and, taking a pen from his pocket, he scrawled the apartment's number across it.

"An' don' worry, we have voicemail."

David took it.  "I'll keep an ear open."  With a jerk of his hand, the card disappeared.  He grinned back at Gambit.  "I've been practising."

The tickets were for a flight leaving in about an hour and were, to Rogue's surprise, for First Class.  Louisa's ID named her as Karen Bristol, the name she'd used at her apartment and was clearly also first class as they all got through security without a hitch.

Once in the departure lounge, Rogue decided to tackle Gambit on this.

"Ah thought security was s'posed to be much tighter now."

Gambit raised an eyebrow.  "You complainin', chére?"

"Not really.  But it's not very reassurin', is it?  That someone with false ID just waltzed through security?"

"You wan' t'say that a bit louder, Rogue?  I don' think they heard you in Washington."  He held up a placating hand, "Seriously, we didn't jus' 'waltz' through.  De guy who made the IDs works for some very hush-hush legit sources and jus' keeps it quiet that he sometimes freelances for de Guild.  An' de head of de airline jus' happens to owe my friend David a favour.  'Sides, it's good for de airline t'know some of us.  We keep an eye on things for him, help spot de occasional smuggler, that kind o'thing.  An' he helps us wit'transport." 

Rogue glanced over to where Storm and Louisa were getting coffee, well out of earshot.  The explanation had been for her benefit.  _'Well'_, she thought, _'it wasn't like I didn't know who I was getting involved with before I started this.'_  

He was looking at her, waiting to see how she'd react. 

"Ah get it, Remy.  Jus' not used t'things bein' so easy, Ah guess."

"Don' say things like that."  Gambit winced.  "That's askin' for trouble."

Rogue laughed and went over to join Storm and Louisa who were studying their coffees with rather more interest than they deserved.  Gambit swept his gaze over the lounge one more time before joining them.  He'd spotted the Guild escorts right off – they weren't trying to stay hidden from him.  His instincts said they hadn't been followed so far, but he wasn't taking any chances.  He nodded to one of the followers he recognized and sat down to join the others.

Rogue stretched in the large seat, luxuriating in the space.  

"Bit diff'rent to de Blackbird, eh chére?"

She closed her eyes and smiled as she sank further into the soft seat.

"Ah'll say.  A girl could get used t'this, Remy."

Gambit smiled back, even though she couldn't see him.  Louisa also seemed to be enjoying the larger space – she had pushed the seat right back and fallen asleep again.  He suspected whatever they'd given her yesterday was still affecting her and she looked like she could use the rest.  Storm was watching her, face tight but controlled.  Despite the years of flying in the Blackbird that had tamed her fear of the enclosed space inside an aircraft, Gambit knew she was always happier flying herself.  Still, she was under control at the moment and had promised them a smooth flight south.  

In truth, he knew he could really use some sleep himself; they'd hit the ground running once they got to the city.  Despite the confident front he presented to the others, he wasn't entirely sure the Guild would go with him on this.  His long absence meant he was more out of touch than he should have been – there were too many variables at play here.  Trying to plan for every contingency last night had just given him a headache.  He'd reached out for Rogue instinctively, only to remember that he was sleeping on the sofa with Bishop snoring in the easy chair across the room.  That had been even worse.  There hadn't been much sleep after that, so he should probably try to catch up now.  There was nothing he could do, that was the problem with an unpredictable situation – you couldn't predict what would happen.  

Exhaling deeply, he decided he'd just have to what he usually did and follow his instincts once he got there.  That, at least, was something he could do.  Pushing his own seat back, he followed Louisa's example and closed his eyes to try to sleep.

**_____________________________________________________________________________________________________**

_For friend and foe were shadows in the mist_

_And friend slew friend not knowing whom he slew_

_Idylls of the King_ by Alfred Lord Tennyson

As they drove away from the airport, Bishop watched his companion closely.  Sage's face rarely reflected her feelings, but months of practice had taught Bishop to read her better than most.

"You're worried."

The statement hung between them as Sage concentrated on moving into the stream of traffic.

"Yes.  Or, at least, concerned."  Sage's fingers tapped the steering wheel.  "The prospect of someone like Sinister getting his hands on Louisa and her powers is very worrying.  And I am unconvinced of the logic of taking her to New Orleans."

"Storm agreed."

"I believe Storm allows her emotions to cloud her judgment where Gambit is concerned."

Bishop frowned.  "You think he charmed her into it?"

"Possibly."

"It didn't work on us."

"We don't have soft spot for a loveable rogue."

Bishop shifted in his seat.  Slowly he said, "Do you trust him?"

"Do you?"

Bishop considered for a moment.  "To always tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, not a chance.  But…"

"But?"

"To watch my back?  Every time."  He turned to face her again.  "I don't think he'd deliberately endanger the girl."

"I'm not suggesting he would, but I think his own judgment may be clouded in this matter."

"Sinister."

Sage nodded, frustration creeping into her voice.  "There are simply too many unknowns here.  Gambit, Sinister, Louisa, Jacob Gavin."

"Which one?"

"Both!  I don't have enough data."

Aha, thought Bishop, now we're getting to it.  Aloud he said, "So we'll have to improvise a bit, until we know more."

"I dislike improvising, Lucas, on principle.  And even that requires a starting point, something to improvise around.  There are simply too may possibilities, too many variables here to know where to begin."

"So pick one and start with that."

"Which one?"

"Any one!"  Her gloom was starting to annoy him.  "The one that looks most promising, one at random, the first one alphabetically!  Anything's better than nothing."

Bishop's outburst seemed to have cleared Sage's mood.  "Do you really think that?" she asked calmly.  "The wrong path could be worse than standing still."

"Do you really think that?"  he shot back.  Calming down he continued.  "I refuse to believe that you don't have a most likely line of enquiry."

Her silence was enough of an answer.  Sage hated losing an argument, and this was her second in two days.  Bishop knew that she (and he) needed reminding sometimes that she was only human, however much she tried to deny it.  He had reached seven in his silent countdown when she spoke.

"The balance of probabilities,"  she spoke the word carefully, "suggests that the Gavin side is the best place to start.  We learned all we could from Louisa, that leaves her uncle and her cousin.  Since she seemed reluctant to inform Jacob jnr. of her location – and I would rather respect her privacy if possibly – we should begin with Jabob snr."

"I thought that's what we'd been doing?"  Most of the previous evening had been spent tracing Jacob Gavin's various business interests which were numerous and, in places, suspiciously shady.  "We could talk to – damnit, let's just call him Courier – without letting on where Louisa is.  To all intents and purposes she's still in hiding and he might be able to help us open up some of the dead ends we found."

Sage considered this.  "Agreed.  Do you want to make the call, or shall I?"

"You watch the road, I'll make the call."  Bishop delved into a jacket pocket for his cell phone.  They were rather stone age compared to the X-men's usual technological standards but they were useful at times.  As he turned it on, it beeped at him.

"Got a message."  He was surprised – hardly anyone had this number.

"From?"  Asked Sage, watching him out of the corner of his eye.

"Neal.  He and Heather are heading back to New York – they got our last message."

"Anything on Davis?"  Sage's tone was neutral as ever.

"He doesn't say."  Bishop looked across at his companion.  Sage had said little about her role in Davis' disappearance but the tension between her and Heather had almost reached breaking point The departure of Neal and Heather to look for the boy had delayed, not cancelled the confrontation.  Sage still said nothing.  Knowing she'd talk when and if she was ready, Bishop decided to let it go for the moment.  "He's asked me to let them have the address – we didn't have one when Storm last contacted them."  

As Sage manoeuvred through the now heavy traffic, Bishop made the calls.  'Jackie' Gavin was out of the hotel at the moment so he left a message and the cell phone number.

The journey back to the apartment took longer and Bishop was starting to fidget by the time they got there.  Sage pulled into the underground garage and they took the elevator up to the penthouse and had taken two paces into the corridor  when Sage raised her hand, signaling Bishop to stop.  Following her gaze down the passage, he caught a glimpse of a moving shadow disappearing round the corner and heard almost silent footsteps.  Neither of them moved, not even to draw a weapon – too noisy and definitely unnecessary.  Moving as one, they stepped to the corner and Bishop caught Sage's eye.  She nodded, stopping, while he took another long pace that carried him into the main corridor.  He had a glimpse of the figure waiting outside the apartment door and grinned.  Beckoning for Sage to follow, he moved silently and swiftly up behind the unsuspecting man.

On consideration several hours later, Bishop thought that it hadn't been his smartest idea ever.  Startling an already nervous X-man who didn't always have complete control of his ability to blast jets of solar heated plasma had dangerous consequences.  It had, however, been a good idea for him to stand in front of Sage.  His mutant cells easily absorbed the energy, although the suddenness of the blast threw him off his feet.  Sage stepped swiftly out of his way as he flew backwards and as she looked from him to Neal, her expression veered away from neutral into interested. 

Neal appeared to have been shocked into speechlessness, and he hurried forward, hands outstretched to help his teammate up.  Bishop took the offered hand and by the time he'd heaved himself back to his feet, Neal's mouth was starting to open and close, still wordless.

"Stop doing fish impressions, Rookie, I'm fine."

"But a normal human wouldn't have been."  Sage's firm, sardonic voice cut between them.

Neal spun to face her.

"It wouldn't have hurt anyone, just…"

"Blasted them away?"  Bishop asked, as Sage touched the side of her glasses, replaying the scene.  After a few seconds she nodded to herself and raised an eyebrow at Neal.

"Well done, Thunderbird.  The blast would have knocked the person down the corridor.  Aside from concussion, possible broken bones and slight singing, a normal human would, indeed, have been fine."

Neal had recovered some of his composure.  "Well a normal human wouldn't have sneaked up behind me and yelled 'go for it, X-man' at me, would they?"

Bishop barked a laugh.  "The boy's got a point, Sage.  I accept the consequences of my actions."  He clapped the younger man on the shoulder.  "How you doing?"

"I was fine, thanks, Bishop."  Neal took a deep breath.  "And once my blood pressure returns to normal, I will be fine again."

"And Heather?"

The young man looked sharply at Sage.  She had asked quietly, her tone neutral, as though she had just asked if they'd had a good journey.  Neal paused a moment before answering.

"She's up on the roof.  Said she'd join us later.  Confined spaces,"  he broke off, considering his words carefully, "they're not so good for her any more."

Sage nodded, almost to herself again, then turned and headed towards the stairs to the roof.  Neal's attempt to follow her was prevented by Bishop's hand on his shoulder.

"Let them sort it out.  They should have done it before you left."  He looked down into Neal's wide brown eyes which were full of concern.  "A team can't function if its members won't talk, Neal.  I know you don't have a problem with Sage, but Heather has had a lot to come to terms with."  He steered the smaller man towards the penthouse door.  "Sage knows what she's doing."

The sun was at its full height as Sage emerged onto the roof.  The city was bathed in warm light, with just a hint of haze floating over it.  Catching a glint out of the corner of her eye, Sage turned.  Heather was standing looking out at the city, her golden skin gleaming in the light, wings folded against her back.  She looked older than when Sage had last seen her.  The careless surfer look was gone and in its place was a new assurance, a new confidence.  She'd had time to come to terms with how she looked, the only question was, had she come to terms with those around her as well?  

Although Sage had never been one for emotional angst, she knew she had to tread carefully here.  There had been an uneasy truce between them for the fight against Khan's invasion, but right now Heather had no reason to hold to that.  Sage also knew that Heather was just about the only X-man who could match her for speed, her Shi'ar DNA making her movements less predictable.  If she decided to hit first an ask questions later, Sage would just have to take the bruises.

As she crossed the roof, she watched the other woman carefully.  Heather didn't turn, but her wings fluttered a little, settling themselves.  Sage came to the low wall enclosing the roof and rested her elbows on it, surveying the city below.  For a long minute, neither of them spoke.

"What do you see?"  Heather's voice was soft and calm

As Sage considered the question, but before she could answer, Heather went on.  "Do you see people, individuals, or just genetic potential?"

"Both."  Sage looked up into the younger woman's face.  "I see both, Heather.  Did you find Davis?"

Heather's wings unfurled a little, although the expression on her face did not change.  As Sage waited for an answer, she noted the Shi'ar body language for future reference.  

"We found him."  Heather's face and voice were now stony.  "Briefly.  He ran again.  I could follow, find him again but,"  she shrugged, "what would be the point?  I had a long chat with Kurt – Nightcrawler – and he gave me this."  In one three fingered hand she held a small, grey box.  

"An image inducer?"  

"Yup.  He said he doesn't use it any more, so I  may as well have it."  She pressed the button on the side of the box and the air around her shimmered.  Suddenly the golden, statuesque Shi'ar was gone, replaced by-

Heather Cameron.  The image inducer had restored her human appearance, almost identical to the girl Sage had first met.  Her hair was a little shorter and she looked a little younger, but it was undoubtedly Heather.  Shifting a little under the overt examination, Heather kept talking, her words now rushing out.

"We used an old picture of me.  It's good enough, although I have to remember not to flex my wings too much – it confuses the image.  Kurt advised me to use it as little as possible.  He said it would stop me coming to terms with it.  At least he knows that deep down he's human.  Me?"  She laughed bitterly.  Switching off the image inducer, she looked hard at Sage.  "I don't blame you know?"

Sage raised an eyebrow and lifted a hand to rub her chin.  Heather's initial reaction had been considerably more violent.

Heather laughed again, the bitterness subsiding a little.  "Yes, sorry about that.  Guess I panicked a bit.  I know you didn't do this to me.  Not really.  And I don't blame you for Davis either, not now."  Her gaze wandered back to the busy streets.

"I don't apologise."  Sage's voice was calm as ever.  "Not for doing what has to be done."  She paused.  When she continued there was a note of something – sadness? – in her voice.  "But I am sorry that doing what was necessary has caused you and your brother so much pain."

Heather nodded and she spoke in a whisper.  "Thank you."

When Sage returned to the apartment, she could hear Bishop and Neal moving about and laughing in the kitchen.  She'd noted before that the two men seemed to get on well, and their efforts in the kitchen were usually successful.  Bishop stuck his head out of the door as he heard Sage enter.  Seeing her calm face and receiving a nod of confirmation, he turned back to the kitchen.

Sage adjusted her glasses, sat down and began to reanalyse (again) everything they knew about the Jacob Gavins.  Unlikely as it seemed, she must have missed something.  Through the fog of concentration, she heard the shrill ring of Bishop's phone and fluent, if incomprehensible swearing coming from the kitchen.  Judging by the noise, something had been dropped.  She began to close down the screens and had just about finished when Bishop emerged from the kitchen.

"That was Courier.  He wants to meet."  

"Where and when?"

"His, er, her, hotel.  ASAP."

"I think we're just going to have to pick a pronoun and stick to it."

Bishop rolled his eyes.  "Fine.  _HE_ wants to meet.  His hotel.  Whenever we can get there."

"Fine."  Sage reached for her coat.  "Shall we?"

Bishop nodded and turned to Neal, emerging from the kitchen behind him.  "You guys stay here for now.  We don't want to scare him off."

Neal looked disappointed but agreed.  "I could use some sleep anyway.  Heather sets quite a pace."

Sage decided to cut off whatever comment was rising up through Bishop's mind – Neal did look tired.  

"That's fine.  Make yourselves at home.  You coming?"

Bishop grabbed his own keys and followed her out of the door.  "Keep safe, Rookie.  Don't do anything I wouldn't"  He pulled the door shut behind him, hearing the gentle thud of a slightly explosive tea towel hit just about where his head would have been.

******************************************************************************************************************

**NEW ORLEANS******

**AFTERNOON**

_Now I am free, enfranchised and at large, May fix my habitation where I will.  
What dwelling shall receive me?_

_From The Prelude Book 1 by William Wordsworth_

At New Orleans airport, Gambit arranged a car while Storm got them all more coffee.  To Rogue's eye, Louisa still looked pale and nervous, which she supposed that was understandable.  The X-men were used to knowing they were targets.  To suddenly discover you were being hunted by one of the most twisted minds on the planet must come as quite a shock.  Louisa looked like she was expected another Marauder to leap out from behind a pillar or for Sinister to suddenly walk into the terminal building.  Still, there was nothing Rogue could do about it – maybe she'd relax a little once they got to the Guildhouse.

Gambit arrived back with the car keys just as Storm got back with the coffee.  He was frowning a little and stuffing his phone into an inside pocket.  Storm gave him the coffee, which he sipped gratefully.

"Belle said she'd meet us at the Nawlins safe house.  She's goin' t'bring a team with her."

"And that bothers you."  It wasn't a question.

"A little."  Gambit's frown deepened and he scratched the back of his head.  "I thought we'd be goin' out to de main Guildhouse, but I get de feelin' we ain't exactly welcome."

"We or us?"

"Yeah.  Mebbe that's it.  Belle could jus' be bein' wary of outsiders."

"Or of me."  Rogue wondered if Belladonna would ever truly forgive her for absorbing her memories all that time ago.  In truth, she couldn't blame the woman for being careful.

"P'raps.  Anyway, de safe house isn't too bad, even if it's not the size o'yours."

"Now, now, sugah, don' get jealous."  Rogue gave him a playful grin.

"Jealous?!  O'dat crumblin' pile o'mortar?  You gotta be kiddin'."

"Now children, we have company."  Storm waved her coffee cup at Louisa who, Rogue was pleased to see, was smiling along with them.  It was the first sign of interest she'd shown all day.

"Remy," Storm continued, "Do you have a car now?"

"Oui, Stormy, I got it.  Woulda preferred a bike but I don' think you'd all fit in de side car."  Grinning, he offered his arm to Louisa and led the way to the car park.  They were nearly at the car and he was halfway through an elaborate and mostly true story about how he and Lapin had once lifted the Mayor's car, when she suddenly tightened her grip on his arm and gasped.

"What is it?"

She pointed wordlessly at his hand, which had started to glow gently.  Swearing in French, he dropped the car keys realizing how tightly he'd been holding them.  They hit the ground, releasing the charge and sending a small puff of smoke into the air.  Rogue and Storm came hurrying up to see what was wrong.

"You okay, sugah?  We heard…"  Rogue broke off, looking from the keys on the ground to his hand, which was still glowing gently.  Normally he could re-absorb the energy if he changed his mind, but this was out of control.  He could feel the energy building up and no amount of concentration was affecting it this time.

He was so focused on his hand that he was only dimly aware of Louisa stepping in front of him.  Then a searing pain shot through his arm and side.  The air around his hand was a cloud of smoke that dissipated as soon as it appeared.  Dimly, through the pain, he was aware that somehow he had charged up particles in the air, which had taken the potentially dangerous energy away from his hand.  He also became aware that someone had their arm around his waist, holding him up.  Looking down, he met Storm's wide blue eyes, full of concern.  Rogue was also standing close, her hand on his arm.  And Louisa was leaning against the car, one hand on its roof, the other massaging her forehead.

"Remy?  Can you hear me?"  Storm spoke quietly, but to Remy's over sensitive and pain-filled head it was as though she was shouting at him.

"Oui, Stormy, I hear you.  Not so loud, okay?"  He pulled himself out of her embrace and took a wobbly step towards Louisa.  She didn't look up at him although her shoulders straightened as though bracing herself.  He put out a shaky hand and lifted her chin, so that they were at least face to face if not eye to eye.

"I'm sorry."  She whispered.  "I didn't know what…I thought…"  The sentence trailed off.

"Firstly, chére, I'm not mad at you.  I think you jus' stopped me from blowing up m'own hand, so thank you.  What you so scared for?"

She blinked back unshed tears.  "I saw, I mean, I felt.  So much pain."

"You felt dat?"

"Some of it."

Storm stepped in, putting her hand on Gambit's shoulder.  "I think we should all sit down and Louisa can explain exactly what happened.  Shall we get in the car?"

"Jus' one problem there."  Rogue bent down and picked up the misshapen lump that had been the car keys.

Gambit raised an eyebrow at her.  "You really t'ink that's a problem, chére?"

Two minutes later they were pulling out of the car park, only delayed by an argument over who was going to drive.  Gambit conceded to Rogue on the proviso that she keep more or less to the speed limit, considering they wanted to stay inconspicuous.  She'd come back with the point that to drive sensibly in New Orleans _was_ to be conspicuous and the whole thing was about to start again when Storm opened the door and practically shoved Gambit into the back seat.

"Since I am the only other person here who can start the car without a key _and_ without permanently damaging it and you," she pointed at Gambit, "are in no condition to drive, I do not see that there is much choice."

Resting his head back against the seat, he had to agree with her.  Even the slight movement of the car was making him nauseous.  A familiar tingle told him he was being watched and he turned his head to Louisa.  Her face was towards him, eyes were apparently focused on the window.

"What do you see?"

She frowned and he felt a ripple pass through him, like back at her apartment only much more gentle this time.  As the second wave washed over him, she closed her eyes, concentrating.

"Damage."  She said at last.  "With most mutants I can see how their powers work, see the connections and pathways.  With you, all three of you in fact, I see a bit of a mess.  Parts are missing, others damaged, others just look wrong.  I could see where the power flare was coming from and that you couldn't control it.  So I pushed a bit, severed the connection."

"You pulled the plug."

"In effect."

Rogue turned in her seat.  "That was pretty dangerous, wasn't it?  Playin' with someone's insides like that?"

"Not really."  Louisa was a little defensive.  "I don't 'play' with anyone.  And I figured it was better that than Gambit lose his hand."

"That would not have been a problem."  Storm told her.  "Remy cannot charge organic matter."

Gambit and Rogue exchanged a look.  There had been a time when he'd been able to charge pretty much anything he pleased, organic or not.  That was not somewhere Remy was prepared to go again, not even to have his powers back.  Being powerless was better than that.

Apparently oblivious to this, Louisa continued, somewhat petulantly.

"Well, it looked pretty powerful to me.  And I figured all that energy would be safer somewhere else."

"So where'd you put it?"  Remy flexed his hand.  It was still sore and the skin was definitely reddened.

"Into the dust."  Met with a blank silence she tried to explain.  "I see the air, which believe me isn't always a good thing, and there's lots of dust particles in it.  I just pulled a lot of them together to absorb the charge."

"How many is a lot?"

Now it was Louisa's turn to look blank.

"I've no idea.  As may as were needed, I guess.  I just did it, instinctively, without really thinking."

Sensing her growing unease, Storm tried to reassure the girl.

"Don't worry that's fairly normal for telekinetics.  As Sage said, your abilities are only limited by your imagination – if you can think it, you can do it."

Again with the look.  The only telekinetic Gambit knew who fitted that description was Jean and the power of the Phoenix definitely wasn't that of an average mutant.  Louisa clearly also found this statement a little over-confident but she said nothing.

Rather than dwell on that, Rogue asked abut something that had been bothering her.

"How exactly did you know Remy was hurtin'?  You said you felt it."

"I too have been wondering that."  Added Storm.  "Some kind of empathic ability?"

"As far as I know, no."  Louisa's voice was puzzled.  After a moment of awkward silence, Gambit slowly raised his hand.

"Dat would be me."  Despite the questioning stares, he shook his head.  "It's a bit complicated."

"I suppose that means you're not going to tell us."

"Got it in one, Stormy.

"Do not call me that, Remy."

The familiar exchange seemed to end the conversation.  Storm and Rogue occasionally commented on familiar and changed landmarks, Louisa appeared to be meditating (or asleep again) and Gambit stared unseeing out of the window.

His arm and side still ached from whatever Louisa had done to him, but that was nothing compared to the lump in his gut.  The question was what to worry about first?  Sometimes it seemed to him that fate had far too much fun at his expense.  Just as his powers went haywire, he and Rogue hit their first really rocky patch, Louisa had been dropped in front of them, bringing Sinister and the X-men – one infinitely better than the other but both bringing further confusion.  On top of that he had chosen this moment to try and sort himself out with the Guild?  He felt like a juggler who'd managed to get all his balls up in the air and suddenly realized they were all going to come down again at once.  The sick feeling in his stomach told him that at least one of them was going to end up falling on his head.

Shifting in his seat and turning away from the window he caught Rogue watching him.  To see her green eyes so full of concern broke his heart.  She had the chance she wanted – to get back to the life they both loved.  Being an X-man hadn't been the plan-A career path for either of them, but it had consumed them both, body and soul.  Rogue believed in the X-men and so, to his surprise, did he. If she had a shot at getting that life back, he was determined not to stand in her way.

He smiled weakly at her, all too aware that it wasn't reaching his eyes.  Rather than return it, she frowned and turned back to reply to Storm.  Gambit's gaze wandered across to Louisa.  If she was awake she must have sensed the exchange and he wondered what she made of the situation.  He wasn't sure he was comfortable with someone who could literally see him with her eyes closed.  He'd never exactly been comfortable with telepaths, even when he'd had all his natural defenses.  Louisa's power was as extreme as Xavier's – nothing could be hidden from her.  He smiled to himself. Unless it was more than three metres away.  At least she had that limit.

The scenery sped past and they were soon on the edge of the city, then in the Garden District, then pulling up outside his safe house.  Like so many of the buildings here, it was an impressive three storey pile, its sweeping staircases and wrought iron railings a reminder of grander times.  Gambit led the way up a wide path through immaculate gardens and up the steps to the front door.  The beautiful lawn and flowerbeds were kept up by a local, rather impoverished handyman who had no idea his beer money was supplied by the most notorious and mysterious society in the city.  His family had been made destitute when his father was killed in the crossfire during a particularly violent period in the Guild wars.  It was typical Jean-Luc to pay attention to little details like that.  Remy tried to do the same but knew he would never live up to his father's standards.  Yet another ball that was about to fall on his head.

At the front door, Rogue looked at him expectantly while Storm examined the lock.

"Fancy your chances, Stormy?"

She frowned, although whether at him or the lock he wasn't sure.  Without looking round, she dropped her bag to the ground and reached into her pocket for her picks.

"Do not call me that, Remy."

Rogue sidled over to Gambit.

"Would Ah be wrong in thinkin' that ain't gonna be as simple as she thinks?"

He grinned at her.

"Patience, chére.  Wait an' see."

Louisa had sat down on the top step, clearly ready for a long wait.  Rogue joined her and they began talking in low voices.  After a while, Gambit realized he could only hear Rogue's voice, more subdued than normal and keeping up a steady monologue.  He picked up the word 'invade' and guessed Louisa must have asked how they all ended up in such a sorry state.  Since most of what had gone on was public knowledge anyway, he wasn't too worried and turned his attention back to Storm.  She was still bent over the lock, making no apparent progress.  He sauntered over and settled back against the doorframe, watching her with what he knew was his most infuriating smirk.

"Havin' trouble there?"

She didn't answer, but swapped one pick for another, trying different combinations. He let her struggle for another few minutes, then leaned towards her.

"Need a hand?"

She glared at him.

"What I need is for you to give me room to work."

Gambit held up his hands in mock apology.

"Desolé, mon amie.  I was jus' askin'."

He folded his arms and began to whistle softly.  Finally, after another five minutes, in which he was sure he heard her swear under her breath in a language he didn't know, she straightened up.

"Are you going to tell me, or do I have to ask?"

"I reckon if you said please _real_ nice….Alright! Alright!"  He batted away the pick she was threatening him with and reached into his own pocket.  

Compared to Storm's elegant kit, his own set looked battered and ancient.  Hers were the best money could buy and he should know – he'd given them to her his first Christmas with the X-men.  His had been Henri's and although the case was a little worse for wear, he wouldn't have traded them for anything.

He drew out one seldom used, long and thin like the others but too fine to be much use on most door locks.  Storm eyed it skeptically.  

"C'mon, don' tell me you're goin' t'start judgin' books by their covers now?"

He passed it to her, then took her hand to guide it to the lock.  The steady sound of Rogue's voice faltered for a moment before picking up again.  He glanced over his shoulder just in time to see the pain on her face.  A sympathetic pang passed through him, but he forced himself to concentrate.  He understood the look.  Standing so close to Storm, his arms encircling her, his hand on hers, his face in her hair, it would be easy to close his eyes and imagine her hand was someone else's.  But she smelt of fuscias, not Rogue's gentle lavender and he wasn't getting the tingle that he always got from being near Rogue, with or without her powers.  Stamping firmly on the feeling of longing rising up within him, he gently turned Storm's hand.

"You had de right idea.  De tumblers got to be turned one by one.  Get them in the right order an' they'll hold.  Get them wrong an' you'll be here quite a while.  You feel?"

"Yes, I think so.  Tell me, how long did it take you, the first time?"

"Awww, Stormy, you don' want t'worry about dat.  See you got it!"

The lock clicked and the door swung open.  Gambit stepped away from Storm and pocketed his tools.  She bent to pick up her bag then pinned him with a firm blue stare.

"How long, Remy?"

Gambit managed to look away, trying to formulate an answer.  Looking back, he knew she'd settle for nothing but the truth.

"'Bout thirty seconds, give or take.  Took Lapin nearly a minute an' a half though."

Without looking away, Storm said, "Rogue, how long have we been here?"

Rogue glanced at her watch.  "Near ten minutes."

"Ten."  Storm narrowed her eyes.  "Why did it take me so long?"

Gambit sighed.  "This ain't de place.  Let's get inside, shall we?"

He helped Louisa up and led the way into a grand entrance hall, decorated with paintings, tapestries and objects that money definitely couldn't buy.  For one thing, no-one could have sold any of them without ending up arrested.

"Place has got eight bathrooms, four drawing rooms an' more bedrooms than I care t'count."  He turned to Louisa.  "You still need that aspirin?  Up de stairs an' second door on de left."

"Ah'll give you a hand."  Rogue took Louisa's arm.

Grateful for her tact, Gambit watched them go, then turned to Storm.  This wasn't going to be fun.

"C'mon.  De main office is this way."  He led the way into a plush book lined room that smelt faintly of leather and tobacco.

"Office?  This is more like a library."  Storm ran her fingers over the leather bound books.

"M'Daddy always liked this room best.  Guess I get it from him."  He sank down into a large winged leather armchair, waving Storm into the sofa opposite.

"Do I have to guess what the problem is, or are you actually going to just tell me for once?"

"You're not a thief, Ororo."  He held a hand up to stall her objections.  "I'm not denying you got de skills.  You're pretty good too; I'd sponsor your tilling m'self.  An' to de X-men those skills are rare an' valuable.  But here, at de Guild..."

"They're less impressive?"

"Somethin' like dat.  You asked how long it took me de first time.  I was eleven then, it was part of preparation for the tilling.  I been doin' this a long time and most o'de Guild, they been doin' it longer than me."

"Remy, please get somewhere near a point.  I already knew I wasn't going to be able to show off here."

"Good.  These are dangerous people, don' doubt it.  You're dealin' wit' Thieves, Assassins an' some seriously dark powers here.  Don' be fooled by any goofin' around or de friendly smiles.  Right now they're jumpy as poppin' corn an' I need t'handle them gently.  They'll respect you as leader o'de X-men but don' push your luck.  Even Belle an' I have trouble tellin' them what t'do."

"I really think you are worrying too much.  And I did spend most of childhood 'thieving' on the streets of Cairo.  It may not have been at the New Orleans Guild but-"

"Non."  He cut across her.  "It wasn't Nawlins, an' your master was an exile from his guild."

"So were you, when you taught me."

"True, but, even then, I was one o'de best Thieves in de world, even if I do say so m'self."  His self-deprecating smile faded.  "He wasn't.  You may not want t'broadcast his name.  I been tryin' t'find out why he was exiled, but it ain't gonna be for nothin' good.  An' if anyone here does know why, it could bring us a world o'trouble we don' need right now.  De Guilds are not your ordinary Thieves, 'Ro.  It's not what they do, it's what they are.  None of de other Guilds come close.  Stop thinkin' of them as petty criminals an' you'll be fine."

To his relief, Storm seemed to be taking in what he was saying, her face grave.  "I understand.  But, if I may ask?  You keep saying _'them'_."

"That wasn't a question, Stormy."

She opened her mouth to answer, but Gambit was on his feet before she could speak.

"That was a car.  They're here."

He vaulted the sofa and was into the hall by the time she reached the doorway.  She saw him take a deep, calming breath before pulling the door open.

"'Lo Belle."

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

_Home is the place where, when you go there, They have to take you in_

_The Death of the Hired Man by Robert Frost_

"Remy!"  Belladonna kissed both of his cheeks then pulled back to look at him.  "How are you?"

"Survivin' as ever.  You?"

"La meme.  Mais," she smiled, "it's good to see you."

"You too."  Peering over her shoulder, his face broke into a wide grin.  "Dis your idea of a team?"

"Dis your idea of a hello?"  Emil Lapin pulled on the hand Gambit had offered and the cousins embraced.  As Belle had done, Lapin studied Gambit's face for a moment before making way for the people behind him.  Theoren shook Remy's hand, cool as ever; Gris-Gris simply nodded briefly.  Behind them, Gambit saw Singer and Fifolet making their way round the house.  Grateful he didn't have to hug them too, he ushered everyone inside.  

"Entré, entré."  He gestured for them to go into the study, saying as they went, "I think most o'you hear would recognize Ororo Munroe, better known as Storm."

Storm was still standing in the study doorway and stepped to one side to let the new arrivals past.  Theoren and Lapin nodded a greeting, while Belle shook her hand.

"Good t'meet you."

"And you.  I will leave you to catch up.  Remy, I believe I will check on Rogue and Louisa."  As she left, Gambit put a hand on her shoulder.

"Merci, mon amie."

She smiled in answer and carried on into the hall.  Gambit shut the door behind her and stood for a moment, eyes fixed on the solid wood.  Steeling himself, he turned and chose the seat he'd had before.  It was the one his father had used and the others seemed to have left it vacant for him.  Belle and Theoren sat at opposite ends of the sofa, Gris-Gris in an upright chair to Gambit's right and Lapin was leaning against the mantelpiece.  All four examined him in silence.

"You guys want t'see de scar too?"  

If this surprised them, they showed no sign of it.

"Non."  Lapin seemed to have elected himself spokesman.  "But we do want t'know what happened.  The truth.  You owe us that much."

Gambit supposed he did.  So he gave them an abbreviated version of what had happened on Madripoor, leaving out only what he felt Storm would prefer didn't become public knowledge.

"This homme, Vargas, where's he at now?"  Lapin asked when he had finished.

Gambit caught the flash in his cousin's eyes.  "No-one knows.  Ain't been hear of since.  An' you, none o'you," his glare took them all in, "are to go after him, you hear?  Non of us are a match for him."

"'Ceptin' you an' Rogue."

"That was diff'rent.  He let me go – think he knew 'bout de Madripoor set an' was happy t'let me have it.  An' Rogue only beat him cos she managed to absorb his abilities.  There ain't none of us who can meet him on equal terms, an' I don' want ANY of you tryin'.  I hear of any T'ief or Assassion goin' after him an' Vargas gonna be de least of their problems.  We clear?"

"As crystal, boss."  Lapin subsided but Gambit sensed the matter was far from settled,

"So what did you leave out?"  Belle was still studying him as though she could get at his secret by staring.  The woman knew him too well for Gambit to put her off.  Giving her a smile – number 11, 'don't feel sorry for me cos I don't' - he spoke quietly.

"You always know, don' you?  I lost m'powers."

His statement was met with silence so he risked glancing up.  The others looked grim and serious but there was no shock in their eyes.  Even Gris-Gris seemed to understand rather than pity.  Encouraged, Gambit flicked a card out into his hand, turning it between his fingers.

"No more charging?"  Lapin asked.

"Nope, not a thing.  Get flashes of power every now an' then, but no control."  He laughed humourlessly.  "Thinkin' o'havin' them steel rimmed, like Oddjob's hat."

Belle and Lapin smiled at his feeble attempt at humour, while Theoren seemed to processing all the possible consequences of this news.  Wanting to finish this conversation Gambit flicked the card in his Harvest Master's direction, catching him on the forehead.

Theoren barely reacted, turning the card in his own hands.  

"It changes nothing."  He said finally.  Meeting Gambit's eye, he went on, "You're still master o'de Guild and dat's dat."

"Really?"  Gambit raised an eyebrow.  "No vote o' No Confidence?"

"Non."  The firmness in Theoren's tone surprised Gambit.  "Look, I don' like you very much but I respected your father.  An' I respect your abilities, though it kills me t'say so.  I t'ink you could do a much better job than you have done – you got it in you."

"An' you don't?"  Gambit challenged.

"Not sayin' dat."  Theoren smiled a little.  "Jus' sayin' at de moment de Guild needs stability, and dat means we need you.  We need you here, doin' your job."

Aaah, thought Gambit, now we're getting to it.

"Jean-Luc thought you had something.  Can't see it m'self, so far as I'm concerned, it's up t'me to prove him right.  De Guild could be great again, but it's gonna take a lot of work an' more commitment than you've bin givin' us.  I guess now, wit'out your powers tyin' you t'de X-men you might actually have de time."

Gambit took a moment to compose himself before answering.  He hadn't expected this at all and it had thrown him.  Looking at Belle, he guessed she'd been working hard to produce this result.  Now she was watching him, waiting for his reply.

Turning back to Theoren, Gambit nodded his understanding.

"Merci, mon brave.  I'm makin' no promises yet.  We both got de best int'rests o'de Guild at heart an' that's what matters.  Speakin' o'which," he addressed Belle, "why din't you want us at de Guild house?  I get de feelin' it's more than jus' not wanting outsiders there."

Belle and Theoren exchanged an uneasy look and she shifted a little uncomfortably before answering.

"We got a bit of a problem.  Or at least we think we do."

Gambit sighed.  "When don't we?  Jus' tell me what's goin' on."

Belle frowned.  "It's not that simple.  We're not even sure there is somethin' goin' on."

Circles within circles, same old story, thought Gambit, settling himself down for a long story.

"It's de Antiquary's clan."  Belle began.  "They've taken to de east wing o'de house, shut themselves up in there.  Hoard and Tome come out every now an' then for clan meetings an' de like but they won't let anyone in."

"I thought de east wing was derelict."  The Assassins' Guildhouse was massive, with parts that had been abandoned for decades.  It had been useful for a young thief and assassin who'd needed somewhere a bit out of the way and private, especially when it was wet outside, but there were whole floors that even Gambit and Belle hadn't explored.

"They've repaired most o'de roof an' windows.  An' it's got its own cellar that you can' get into from de rest o'de house."

"Not for lack o'tryin'" Lapin put in.

"I'll bet.  Any idea what they're up to?"

"None.  They're not sayin' an' I've been reluctant t'force it.  There's been enough trouble holdin' de clans together wit'out borrowin' trouble."

"An' since they're – or they were – a thief clan, you figure whatever needs doin' would be better done by me."

"Pretty much."  Belle shrugged.  "It might not be anythin'.  You know what they're like wit' their secrets.  But that's de problem – we just don' know."

Gambit had rarely heard Belle sound so helpless.  Seeing the tiredness in her eyes, he realised just how heavy a task he had left her with, holding together people who'd fought each other for centuries.  

"I'll see what I can do when get there.  What else?"

Theoren was next.  "We've had some…disagreements…over de trainin' o'new apprentices."

"We've actually got some then?"

"Five.  Trouble is, de Assassins want then trained one way, de Thieves another.  For everything we think we can agree on, there are about ten other things we argue about.  When it comes down to it, we don' know what we're trainin' them t'be."

Gambit had thought this might be a problem.  The position in New Orleans was unique.  While there were Guilds of thieves all over the world, the Big Easy was the only place the Assassins Guild existed.  With their lengthened lifespan, there tended to be too many thieves for the city to hold, so Guild members had taken Biblical approach to the problem; they had gone forth and multiplied.  Assassins on the other hand had powers that Candra had needed close to hand, so she'd kept them on a short leash.  There wasn't as much call on them as for the thieves so they tended to commute to their work, using the city as a sanctuary to retreat to.  Gambit knew they had links to various mobs around the world but there simply wasn't as much call for the elite of their elite.  Still, they had training that would be useful for any thief and skills that it would be a terrible waste to let die out.  Aloud, he asked,

"Who's responsible for their trainin'?"

"At de moment?  Claude Poitier and Marcel Dupont.  They've only been at it a coupla months an' already they're havin' problems."

"An' where do de kids come from?  What clans?"

"Three Assassin, two Thief."

Gambit nodded, almost to himself.  "An' what do they say?"  At the blank looks he tried again.  "Have you tried askin' them what they want t'learn?"

Gris-Gris looked shocked.  "De Guild trainin' has been set for centuries."

"Oui, so has de Guild war.  Mebbe it's time to shake it up a bit, neh?  See what de kids are good at, where their strengths are.  Let that decide what you train 'em in.  Even before unification we allowed for that.  They're not exactly children so don't treat 'em like they are.  Ask them what they'd want t'learn and teach 'em.  We may be all one Guild now but I'm not interested in turnin' out a load o'clones." He stopped there, realizing he'd let his feelings carry him along.  The others were watching him with a mixture of surprise and respect.  Slightly embarrassed, he grinned a little sheepishly.  "Anyways, that's what I think."

"Looks like all de time spent wit' de X-men wasn't such a waste after all."  Belle spoke, and even Theoren looked vaguely impressed.

Gambit shrugged.  "It rubs off on you.  That all?"

"For now.  There's bound t'have been somethin' while we've bin here."

"Isn't there always?"  

Belle shook herself a little and Gambit could see her refocusing on the present.  "Getting' back to de point of us being here, not that we're not pleased to see you, what's going on wit' dis girl?  She here?"

"Upstairs.  Apparently she doesn't travel too well."  Gambit gave them a brief outline of the past few days, skating over the X-men's involvement as far as possible and finishing with the all important matter of payment.  He produced the diamond from an inside pocket and tossed it to Theoren, who held it first up to the light, then against his own black sleeve, examining every facet and sparkle.  Even Gris-Gris looked impressed.

It also shone in Belle's eyes, but she was too canny an operator not to see the catch.

"These Marauders, how bad we talkin'?"

Gambit considered this for a moment.  He wasn't sure how much they knew about the period of his life when he was exiled from the Guild and wasn't too keen to go into details.  On the other hand, he didn't want to withhold information that could save their lives.  

"You guys ever here of a doctor called Essex?  Or Sinister?"

He saw Theoren's eyes narrow and it suddenly hit him.  Theoren's father had been in New York a century earlier when the Guild had first encountered the evil scientist.  He had probably heard the name from Guild legend.  To his surprise, it was Gris-Gris who spoke.

"Just once.  Not a dude you want to play cards with."

"Or any other kind of game where you can lose body parts."  Lapin's eyes were dark.  "I heard rumours 'bout stuff you wouldn't believe and a white faced devil wit' glowing eyes and fangs only Dracula could love."

"Who from?"  Gambit was surprised the description was so accurate.

"Jus' people I know."  

Gambit hadn't really expected an answer.  They all had sources that they played close to the chest, even someone like Lapin. 

"Whatever you heard, double it an' you might get close to de truth.  De Marauders themselves are just mean ol' mutants, nothin' I don' think de Guild can handle.  Sinister himself, we don' want within a hundred miles o'here."

"He scares you, doesn't he?"  Belle's voice was soft, as though talking to a frightened child.

"Down to my boots.  An' he should scare you too."  He held up a hand to stall their questions.  "Look, we don' have time for this now.  Someday I'll give you the whole sad story.  For now, I jus' want to get Louisa out to de Guildhouse an' see what we can do about the Antiquarians.  OK?"

There was general nodding and Gambit had a vague sense of unease.  That had been far too easy, all of them giving in to his authority with far less argument than he'd expected.  Either he was getting better at this or there was something going on he didn't know about.  Knowing the Guild, he suspected the latter, although they'd never answer a direct question.  All he could do was brace himself and wait.

Belle recalled Singer and had her let the Guildhouse know they were coming.  She and Fifolet then agreed to take the rental car back to the airport, in order to maintain good relations with that particularly useful company.  As Gambit helped Louisa into one of the cars, he saw that she was still too pale with large dark smudges forming under her eyes.  She didn't seem to notice his scrutiny, concentrating on getting settled into the plush seat and putting her head back into the soft cushions.

"You ok?"

She held a hand out flat and tipped it from side to side in the universal gesture for 'so-so'.  

"Oh."  There didn't seem to be much else he could say and she clearly didn't want to talk.  So he settled himself into the opposite seat and drew Lapin into conversation.  By the time they reached the Guildhouse they were swapping extravagant claims and arguing over the credit for adolescent adventures.  Rogue listened with unconcealed amusement and even Louisa had perked up a little.  

The Guildhouse was just as he remembered it, a large, low building, sitting in a clearing, apparently oblivious to the encroaching greenery around it.  He knew the Assassins had to do monthly sweeps to keep the lush vegetation at bay.  No building could survive long in this kind of terrain without constant care.  The house seemed to be an intruder in the landscape, imposing itself on the trees and plants who barely tolerated its presence.  It was this that made it so valuable – no one had ever thought that even the most ardent naturalist would live out here, let alone the world's most secret society.  

Looking up at the grand pile, Gambit felt the lump in the pit of his stomach return.  This had been both a house of horrors and delights for most of his childhood.  The place of his greatest enemies and danger as well as holding well-cherished and passionate memories.  In the past few years it had been his home and hideout in the South, old memories replaced with new ones.  He could see some recent work that had been done to rebuild the derelict parts of the massive building and suspected it would be even more changed inside.  

Louisa demanded a description, which Lapin was only too happy to provide.  Grateful to have a moment's breathing space, Gambit stood looking up at the main door.  It wasn't much used, only for important events, which he guessed this must be.  Rogue came up and took his arm.

"Penny for them."

"Not sure they're worth dat much."  Gambit squeezed her arm, continuing his inspection.  "Hard t'believe I'm s'posed to be master o'this."

"More like prison governor?"

Gambit pulled a face.  "Don' use words like that 'round here, chère.  Zoo-keeper might be a bit closer to it.  C'mon."  He started up the steps.  "No use just standin' looking at it, we got to…"

He broke off as they came into the main front porch.  Lapin and Louisa had stopped just outside the door and the young thief was arguing with someone in a long red robe that Gambit recognized as belonging to the Antiquary's clan.  Releasing Rogue, he joined the conversation.

"There a problem?"

Lapin turned, his face flushed and angry.  "This doorkeeper," he spat the word, "won't let us past.  Says we haven't got the authority t'bring outsiders into the Guild sanctuary."

"You're kidding."  Gambit turned to the figure blocking the doorway.  He didn't recognize the face, not that he had expected to.  That branch of the Guild had always been secretive.  "You really want to pick this fight?"

The red-robed man, also red in the face and, Gambit realized, younger than he'd thought, swallowed hard and tried again.

"I'm sorry, Guildmaster, there are rules and procedures that even you have to follow.  An' one o'those is that you can't let just anyone into the Guildhouse.  They have to be properly vouched for."

"I vouch for them."  Belle had taken the steps two at a time and now stood beside Gambit.  "C'mon, Pierre, move outta the way before you get moved."

"I'm sorry, Mistress Bordreax, I have my orders."  'Pierre' was looking even more nervous now.  Lapin had let go of Louisa's arm and was holding his hands loosely by his sides, ready for a fight.  Belle's hand had gone to her belt, where one of her knives would have been, if she had been carrying them openly.  Gambit wasn't about to have blood spilled on his first day back and tried to get control of the situation again.

"Who gave the orders?"

"I did."  The voice was cold and imperious, coming out of the darkness behind Pierre.  The man who stepped into the light always reminded Gambit of a reanimated corpse.  His face was lined, with sunken cheeks and eyes, while the hands that emerged from the sleeves of his blood-red robe were thin and skeletal.  Minister Hoard wasn't tall but he made up for it in sheer terrifying presence.  One of Gambit's earliest memories was of this cadaverous figure stalking the corridors of the Antiquary's hideout, ice-blue eyes looking out for anything out of place or of interest.  He had taken a particular dislike to the Antiquary's acquiring a small boy-child with red on black eyes, and Gambit had to admit the hatred was entirely mutual.  

He felt his own eyes narrow in instinctive hostility to the man before him.  For the sake of peace and in the hopes of retrieving what was turning into a horrible mess he stamped hard on his anger and met the cold blue stare.  

"I hope you got a real good explanation for this.  Last time I checked Belladonna and I were in charge here."

"That is as it may be,"  Tobin sniffed, "but you are both still bound by Guild Law.  And that clearly states that all visitors, all strangers, must be vouched for by the head of the Guild before they are allowed to enter."

"And you decide to start applying that rule today?"

"Why not?  It's never too late to start doing the right thing, as I'm sure you are only too aware, Master LeBeau."

Storm, who had come up in time to hear the end of the conversation, put a hand on Gambit's shoulder.  

"If it is that big a problem, we could stay in the city."

"No."  Gambit's voice was firm and he fought the urge to ram Tobin's teeth down his throat.  "I will not be dictated to in my own house."  An inspired idea floated to the top of his mind and he grinned at the Antiquarian, who riled at the sudden gesture.  "But, Minister Hoard has a point."

"Remy," Belle began

"Non, Belle.  S'okay."  He turned and looked into her eyes, urging her to follow his lead.  "D'accord, mon brave.  You want t'do this by de rules, we do it by de rules.  Is everyone gathered?"

"What?"  Hoard looked confused but judging by Belle's gasp, she'd just got it.  Gambit could only hope he could remember what he was supposed to do.

"Now, now, monseigneur.  Don' tell me you don' know your own rituals.  We got t'have de whole Guild gathered for this.  You there, Pierre," the boy started at the sound of his name, "go tell everyone to get down here, now.  That's an order, for them as well as you."

Pierre nodded and hurried off, to scared to spare his own master a glance. 

"Better go with him, Belle.  Make sure everyone gets a call."  

Whatever she may have thought, Belle held her tongue and followed Pierre into the shadows of the hall, her blonde hair shining for a moment in the darkness before she disappeared.  Hoard gave them all one last hard stare then he also was gone. 

Lapin turned to Gambit.

"I hope you know what you're doin'."

"Me too.  Here."  Gambit shrugged off his coat and handed it to his cousin.  Under the cover of the heavy duster, Lapin grasped his hand.

"You watch yourself.  These hommes don' play nice."  

And with that he too vanished into the house.  Gambit put an arm round Rogue's shoulder.

"You girls are gonna have to trust me on this.  Just go with it, no matter how strange it gets.  I'll explain it to you later."

None of them looked happy and he had to admit it wasn't his most encouraging speech ever.  Before he could add to it, Belle reappeared in the doorway.

"We're ready.  Be careful, Remy."

Gambit grinned.  "Where's the fun in that?"  Over his shoulder he said, "Wait out here for the time being.  I'll let you know when you should come in, comprends?"

"We've got it."  Rogue appeared calm but Gambit knew that expression.  It said that she hoped he had a hell of a good explanation for this.  He hoped he did as well.  Lifting his head he stepped across the threshold and into the gloom.  

The first thing he was aware of was a hissing sound.  At first he thought he was getting a really bad reception, then he realised it was the sound of seventy people all whispering at once.  This gradually died away until the hall was still and silent.  The Guildhouse had been designed for grandeur rather than comfort and there were only a few high windows lighting the main entrance.  Most of these were on the North wall behind him, with only a weak and pale glimmer managing to get through.  In front of him a wide staircase swept up into the house, splitting into two at the mezzanine level.  The builders had done themselves proud here, with a massive, clear window facing south and catching every ray of the bright sunlight.  It dazzled you as you came through the front door, unless you were expecting it.  In fact, he thought, it was perfect Assassins' interior design.  He blinked a few times to clear the afterimage and looked round.

He could see some faces he recognised and more that he didn't.  They were in a loose circle around the entrance, the crowd spilling up onto the bottom few stairs.  They were dressed in everything from the Antiquarians' red robes to Mercy LeBeau's leotard.  Judging by the small group in similar clothes, they had been summoned from the gym.  All eyes were on him now, waiting to see what he would do.  He grinned to himself.  This was an audience now, just waiting for the grand performance.  And he knew how to work an audience.

He took another step inside, into the patch of sunlight, letting everyone get a good look at him.  For most of them, it was probably the first time they had seen their nominal leader and he was in no hurry to break the spell.  The hushed silence that had fallen lasted for another minute, without as much as a cough or shuffle to disrupt it.  At last, letting his gaze sweep round the room, Gambit decided it was time to get going.

"Mes amis.  It is good to be home, en famille again."  Sensing he had them, he continued, unable to resist the urge to exaggerate his accent to make the point.  "I was reminded by Minister Hoard dat we are all held by a network an' history of tradition an' ritual, stretchin' back to de dawn of time itself.  He also reminded me dat we have very strict rules as to who can an' can't be here, an' asked me t'vouch for dose I would bring in from de outside."

A ripple ran through the crowd.  Gambit could see several of the Clan Heads exchange looks.  Technically, even members of the clans were supposed to be vouched for before they were allowed to enter.  Gambit wanted Hoard to realise how far the road he had started down really went.  Not willing to let the muttering take hold, he pressed on.

"I'm happy t'do dis, because I know dey are honourable people.  You may even've heard o'two of dem, Storm and Rogue from de X-men.  The third, Louisa Gavin, seeks our protection."  The muttering had graduated to murmuring now so he raised his voice.  "Yes, an actual paying client.  I don' need t'tell you how unusual dey are."  That got a laugh from some and several new conversations broke out.  He raised his hands for silence.  "First, de Guild law mus' be obeyed an' the rituals followed.  Dere are few among us who know de words now an' even fewer who can understand dem, so I trust you'll forgive my translatin'."

He could feel their attention now, like another presence in the room.  Closing his eyes, he began to recite the old tongue words, phrases rising up in his mind from a place even he had forgotten.  As he gathered confidence, he opened his eyes again, still speaking slowly and with confidence in a language he hadn't heard for twenty years.  The Old Tongue was a mixture of French, English, Spanish and who knew what that had been passed down from the Immortal Candra.  The last time he had heard it he was ten years old and he even surprised himself at how much he remembered.  When he had finished, in the absolute hush, he took another step forwards.  This placed him in the centre of the loose half circle formed by the other Guild members.  As he began his translation, he turned his head, taking in every face around him, speaking clearly now so that there could be no misunderstanding

"As Master of these Clans, as patriarch of this Guild, as overseer of this place, I vouch for these strangers.  I swear that the Guild will not be harmed by them; that they will not divulge its secrets or tell its tales; that they will honour our ways an' respect our laws.  I swear to them that they will not be harmed by the Guild; that we will not divulge their secrets or tell their tales; that we will uphold our promises to them an' protect them as our own.  I promise that should these sacred oaths be broken on either side, the full penalty will be exacted, in spirit and in blood."

On the last word, he held his hand out in front of him.  There was a collective gasp as two small droplets fell to the dark wood of the floor.  Apparently by magic, a red slash had appeared across his right palm and a thin silver dagger in his left hand.  He held the pose for about thirty seconds longer than he should have, playing the moment for all it was worth.  Then he let his hands drop back to his sides.  Surveying the captivated faces, he knew the gamble had paid off and that he had won this round.  As his fire-red eyes met Hoard's ice-blue ones he fancied he could hear the hiss of steam.  Judging by their cold stare, round two was just about to begin.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________

**NEW YORK******

**AFTERNOON**

_Appearances, now or henceforth, indicate what you are_

_Crossing __Brooklyn_ Ferry by Walt Whitman

Jacob Gavin jnr. was not what Bishop had expected.  For a start, 'he' was definitely a 'he' from his Gucci shoes to his Ivy League tie.  Also, by Gambit's account, 'Jackie' Gavin was quite the looker.  Jake was...well, not unattractive exactly, but certainly nothing to write home about.  Waiting in the hotel lobby, only a shock of blue-black hair distinguished him from all the other 'suits' coming and going, briefcases in hand.  The moment Sage and Bishop walked through the entrance, he strode across to meet them.

"Well I was going to suggest coffee here, but you two look like you'd be more comfortable at Secret Agents Anonymous.  Have you even heard the word 'inconspicuous'?"

Bishop looked down at him.  

"You really want to start a conversation about how _we_ look, Jackie?"

Jake bristled.  "Fine, fine, whatever.  Shall we go?"  Without waiting for an answer, he led them out of the hotel and to a small cosy coffee house about 5 minutes walk away.  Once ensconced in the far corner, away from prying ears but in full view of the door, Jake finally asked.

"Where's Louisa?"

"Safe."  They'd decided on the way over that telling some of the truth couldn't hurt.  To Bishop's surprise, instead of asking more questions, Jake sagged with relief and took a long draught of coffee.  Finally, he looked up at them.

"And you're not going to tell me where she is."  It wasn't a question.

"What makes you say that?"

"Oh come on!  I may not be an X-man, but I'm not stupid.  If you were going to tell me you would have come out with it by now.  And since you called me, I guess you need something – I hardly think you're concerned about my state of mind."

"True."

"Now, do we have to play Twenty Questions, or are you just going to tell me?"

Bishop shrugged at Sage.  She was better at concise explanations than him.

"Fine," she said.  "We rescued Louisa from Sinister's Marauders.  She ran away because your father tried to hire her, and her powers, out to various agencies, including the government, and, we suspect, Sinister."

"Come on Sage," Bishop put in, "Hire her out?  Sell her to the highest bidder would be closer to it."  The grin he turned on Jake had little to do with humour.  "Best to get these things right."

Jake had paled visibly.  "Sinister?  Dad?  Hang on a sec.  Are you saying my father tried to sell my cousin, his ward, to Essex?"

"Pretty much.  Although he may not have known it was him.  The successful bidders were the government – or at least a government agency.  Louisa wasn't too keen to work for any of them."

"I'll bet she wasn't."  Jake contemplated his coffee foam for a moment.  When he looked up, his eyes were dark and hard.  "What do you want me to do?"

"We need to know who was in the bidding.  If you could get us access to your father's files, maybe even your father himself.  Get us some names and codes…"

"No."

Bishop raised an eyebrow.  "I thought you wanted to help?"

"I mean there aren't any.  Dad's computer is isolated completely.  Most of his files are on paper anyway, I think he just uses it to type letters.  The kind of people he deals with prefer to be able to burn the evidence."

"Figures.  Well there goes one lead."

"Hmmm" Jake considered.  "He does keep some files at the office.  I can't exactly just walk you in there, but…" he smiled slowly, "I know a man who can."

The offices of Gavin & son were  in a large, shiny office block, and the outer reception area was certainly impressive enough.  Jake pushed open the door and walked confidently towards the receptionist.

"Hello Grace."

"Mr. Gavin!  We weren't expecting you for another two days!  Is everything alright, sir?"

"Everything's fine.  I have some important clients coming in this afternoon.  No need for you to worry about it – they'll be coming in the back way, but I really couldn't miss them."

"Very good, sir.  Would you like some coffee?"

"No it's fine, Grace, we'll look after ourselves."

He shut the office door firmly behind him as always.  A little while later, she heard the faint noise of a buzzer and the other door open and close.  Satisfied that all was well, she checked her watch and answered the next call.

"That was easy enough."  Jake ushered Sage and Bishop into the office and closed the door behind them.  Turning, they saw a fifty-ish, active looking man with a shock of blue-black hair and piercing blue eyes.

"You know," said Bishop, "you look a lot like your father, if you see what I mean."

"I think so.  Makes it easier to copy him.  Well, this is it."

He flung out his arms in gesture that took in the whole room.  The office was elegantly if sparsely furnished, with a few comfortable looking armchairs and the compulsory huge mahogany desk in the window.  Besides the one they had used, there were two other doors.  On examination, one led to a small bedroom, complete with wardrobe and sink.  The other was locked tight and instead of a keyhole, there was a small white panel.

"Electronic key?"  Bishop asked.

"Bit more sophisticated than that."  Jake pressed his thumb to the panel and a thin green strip of light scanned down.  The door clicked open and he led them into a small room with the atmosphere of a vault.  Filing cabinets lined the walls, four drawers high and Bishop counted at least fifteen of them.

"It's all here," Jake was saying, "Dad's complete records.  If you've go any ideas where to start, I look forward to hearing them."

Sage opened a drawer and flicked through the tabs.

"I suppose it's too much to hope that there's one there labelled 'Louisa'?"

"Probably.  We won't know until we look."

Groaning, Bishop opened the top drawer nearest the door.  As he too began flicking through file names, Jake excused himself, saying he need to change.  Bishop was on his sixteenth drawer when he returned.

"What?"  he asked at their stares.

"How long have we known this guy, Sage?"

"About three hours."

"Right.  And this is the third version we've seen."

'Jackie' Gavin shifted unhappily.  "It takes effort to maintain those other appearances.  I figured if we're going to be here a while, I should be able to concentrate."  Despite the suit and shirt which curved rather differently on Jackie than they had on Jake, Bishop had to admit Gambit had been right – Courier was definitely easy on the eye.  Tiring of the unashamed interest, Courier opened a drawer.

"Find anything yet?"

"No, but there's still a way to go."

Half an hour later, they still had nothing.

"Sage?  Any ideas?"

"I think," she said to Courier, "your father is rather cleverer than we expected.  I've been looking through some of the papers themselves, and while they're not in code as such, there are at least ten code names for various projects not to mention all the clients, and the amount of cross referencing is fiendish.  I imagine your father has a book of some kind with the plain-text names in.  I also imagine he is not careless enough to leave it lying around here."

A brief but thorough search of the office and computer files proved her right.

"So we're stuck then?"  Courier sank despondently into a chair.  "No code book, no deciphering."

"All codes can be broken.  It is usually just a matter of time."  

Hearing something in her voice, Bishop turned to her.

"Sage?"

"All the information is here.  We just have to analyse it correctly."

Catching on, he took a step towards her.

"You can't be serious!  There must be hundreds of files to go through."

"Care to explain to those of us who don't speak superhero?"

Bishop answered him without taking his eyes from Sage's face.

"She's going to go through every piece of paper in that room in the hopes that she will be able to break the code.  Sage that's going to take forever, even assuming you can do it."

"I don't see why not.  The human mind has a far greater capacity than even the most powerful computer."

"There has to be a better way."

"Now is the time to suggest one."

They locked stares for a long moment.  Knowing he had lost this one, Bishop threw up his hands.

"Fine.  But if your brain starts dribbling out of your ears, don't come whining to me."

"Fine."  She turned to go back into the file room.

Bishop followed her, not willing to leave it there.  "Why is this so important?  We're all pushing ourselves so hard here you'd the think the world was going to end if we didn't.  What's so special about this girl?"

"Apart from the fact that she could probably blow half the country up if she put her mind to making an atom bomb?  I'm not sure.  I think the minute we start thinking the big, world saving things are more important than people is when we stop being X-men.  And I'm not willing to see another megalomaniac get his hands on exactly what he wants."

"Sage, Sinister is not Bogan."  

"No?  In his own way he's worse.  Cloning people to turn them into his own genetic slaves?  He's perverting what we are, Bishop, using mutants as tools.  I thought that's exactly what we were fighting against.  Bogan does it for the pleasure and the power.  Sinister does it because he thinks he can create a better world.  At least you know where you are with the selfish motive."

Bishop traced a finger down one of her tattoos.

"Emma made it out alive and in one piece.  He won't take her again, not without her knowing."

She batted his hand away.  "I know that.  But what about Jeffrey?  He's stuck with the memories of what was done to him for the rest of his life.  And what about Gambit?  You saw the fear in him at just the mention of Sinister's name.  I can't just sit by and see that happen to someone else.  If we can keep Louisa out of Sinister's hands long enough, we might find a way of putting a more permanent stop to him.  It's about time someone did."

"Is he next on your list of super-villains to be defeated?"

Sage relaxed a little at the teasing.  "Not exactly.  But if I had one, he'd be on it."

"The man hasn't been heard of in months!"

"You think that's a good thing?  Bishop, this is the best option, in all ways.  Charles trained me to be a spy, trained me to absorb and analyse information.  This is the first time in a long time that I've been able to stretch them a bit.  And I can never resist a challenge."

"I'm not going to be able to talk you out of this, am I?"

"No."  The corners of her lips twitched, the closest she ever came to smiling, "But you could make me some coffee."

Shaking his head, Bishop left her to it.

Two hours later, he looked in on her.  She was sitting on the floor of the small room, a massive pile of files on one side, a much smaller stack on the other.  Each file was opened and the pages turned methodically before being moved to the new pile.  It seemed even Sage realized she couldn't read every single page, rather she was simply looking at them, relying on her photographic memory to take in enough details to analyse later.  He was still convinced it was insane, but it was her call, not his.  

Jake had gone out for dinner and more coffee and the two of them were talking in hushed voices on the far side of the office.  In his own mind, Bishop had decided to stick with 'Courier' and 'he'.  For all that his prime form was now female, Courier clearly still thought of himself as a man.  Right now, he was casting skeptical looks in Sage's direction.

"Can she really do this?"

"I've no idea.  In theory, yes.  Her mind is better than the best computers, but she's still only human.  At some point exhaustion has to kick in.  Although if it's a choice between Sage and exhaustion, I'd back Sage every time."

"Fair enough."  Courier brushed his hair out of his eyes and stared out of the window.  Whatever was wrong, was going to take dragging out.  Bishop sighed inwardly – Storm was good with people, he generally wasn't, unless they needed interrogating, which probably wasn't the best option here and now.  As they constantly reminded themselves, they were supposed to be pushing their limits.  Time to stretch some new muscles.

"Look, Courier, you don't have to get more involved than this you know?  You've done your bit."

"I know.  But I'm supposed to just step back and watch you tear my family apart?  OK, it's not much of a family but I always trusted my father, more or less.  And I never thought he'd try to hurt Louisa.  The fact that the X-men have got so involved suggests that you think there's more going on here, right?"

The thought had occurred to Bishop.  If Jacob snr. had contacts all over the world and knew exactly who'd be interested in Louisa there was a distinct possibility that he'd dealt with other mutants in the same way.

"I think so, yes.  But we've no proof as yet.  And even if we get it, this can be our call, not yours."

"No!"  Courier spun to face him.  "Because Louisa means more to me than she ever could to you.  Because if you want to get anywhere near my father you will need my help.  And because this is my family you're talking about I will not just stand by and watch while the whole thing goes to hell!"

They were both silent for a long moment.

"So, how many times did you see the Matrix anyway?"

"About twelve.  Does it show?"

"Only a little.  Impressive speech though."

"And right now I'd look great in a pvc catsuit."

Courier dropped into the plush desk chair and put his hands over his face.  Bishop let him sit for a minute and pull his thoughts together.  He was saved from having to move the conversation on himself by Courier.

"It's all my fault."

Confessions were something Bishop knew how to handle.  He sat on the desk and gently but firmly pulled Courier's hands away form his face.

"How exactly is it your fault?"

"This is where it gets complicated.  I don't know where to start."

"The X-men practically define complicated.  Start at the beginning."

"I knew there'd been some tension between Dad and Louisa but I thought it was just normal parent-teen stuff, you know?  But I've been thinking.  Even before we went back to the 1890s, we went to see Sinister in South America.  Remy made a deal with him, gave him my finger and had me kill the cells so that Sinister didn't get his hands on anything he could use.  Then, when we went back in time, Sinister took them from me, used them on himself.  It's thanks to me that he can shapeshift.  So I was thinking, maybe when we saw him again last year it reminded him of the woman he met all those years ago.  Maybe it was because of that visit that he went after Louisa."

Bishop listened carefully, untangling the convoluted tenses – he understood better than most how time-travel complicated things.

"So basically, you think Sinister looked for Louisa because of you?"

"More or less."

"And this, rather flawed reasoning I might add, makes you feel duty bound to try to do something about it?"

"Wouldn't you?  Besides, I had to stand by and watch while New Son used Remy.  I didn't have the guts to do anything about it then."

"But now you do?"  

"Probably not."  Courier sighed.  "But I've got to try."

It was two in the morning when Bishop took Sage her sixth coffee.  She seemed to be about half-way through and to his eyes didn't look too bad.  She accepted the coffee with barely a nod or break in concentration.  Apart from slightly slumped shoulders and the beginning of shadows under her eyes, there was little change.  Bishop returned to the seat looking out of the window.  He'd sent Courier off to sleep in the tiny bedroom but hadn't been able to settle himself.  Instead he ran through his head all they knew about Sinister, determined to be as ready as possible to meet the man himself.  He agreed with Sage that they had a responsibility to stop people like him; he only hoped they were able to.  By Gambit's own testimony and obvious fears, the evil scientist had more bolt holes than you could find in a lifetime and had more than mastered the disappearing act.  Trying to catch him was going to be like trying to catch a shadow but, Bishop grinned to himself in the dark, there was no way _that_ would stop them from trying.

In the file room, Sage took a sip of coffee and turned another page.  She was only vaguely aware of Bishop somewhere around; her focus on her work.  Despite her growing fatigue and aching muscles, part of her was relishing the challenge.  What she hadn't told Bishop was that this wasn't her first attempt at absorbing large numbers of files.  During her early days at the Hellfire club she'd thought to get a head start by reading through Shaw's records.  It had cost her a week's worth of sleep and more than a few near misses, but she had done it.  Unfortunately, her mind had struggled to cope with the sudden influx of such a large amount of information and, like any computer asked to run a program too big for it, she'd more or less shut down.  In her half-thinking state she'd returned to the mansion and it had taken her and Charles a week to put her mind back together.  At that stage, the low ranking Tessa hadn't been missed and the information they gained had been useful for her rise through the ranks.  Still, she had thought it wise not to mention the incident to Bishop.  That had been a long time ago; that had been Tessa.  Sage was a different woman who could and would do this.  Barely missing a beat, she turned the next page.


	5. Friday

**Friday**

_Never morning wore  
To evening, but some heart did break_

_Alfred, Lord Tennson, In Memoriam_

**New Orleans**

_I have known them all already, known them all  
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons  
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons_

_TS Eliot, The lovesong of J Alfred Prufrock_

**Morning**

If there had been any larks the following morning, Gambit would have been up with them. As it was, he made do with the sounds of the ducks and geese and other inhabitants of the swamp. They sang much less prettily than larks, but to his ears it was a welcome sound. The bayou was never really silent and he realised how much he had missed the ever-present background noise of life.

Since the Assassins' house never really slept, he wasn't surprised to find the kitchen already occupied when he got down. Out of habit and instinct he turned his head towards the large cooker. Tante Mattie would normally have been standing there, making breakfast, lunch dinner or supper for whoever happened to be passing. Belle said that the old woman had taken to her house by the lake more and more lately, only coming by on brief visits. To Gambit it felt like the heart had been cut out of the place. Mattie had been, and always would be, a surrogate mother to most of the Guild. With her gone, there were few left who could remember old times and ways, a whole generation lost at last. His father, Belle's father, Mattie, the Antiquary; everyone from the old order was gone, leaving the young generation to put everything back together again. That might explain why Mattie was keeping to herself. The Guild house must seem awfully empty when you were the only one of your contemporaries left.

Gambit felt a little of that himself. He kept expecting his brother, Henri, to appear round a corner or through a door. It was crazy because during Henri's life time, this had been the enemy stronghold. Still, Gambit found himself looking over his shoulder for a well remembered voice or friendly smile. Coming into the kitchen, full of faces he didn't know, he felt the burden of responsibility weigh heavier than ever.

There were a few he could name. Most of the Clan Heads were known to him by sight, if not personally. He spotted Fifolet lurking in a far corner, keeping to himself. By the looks of him, he was no more of a morning person than Gambit was and so keeping out of the way was probably the best thing for all concerned. There was a young man standing at the cooker and another rummaging in a cupboard. Both stopped what they were doing at Gambit's entrance and a hush fell on the whole room. Gambit grinned to himself and waved for them to carry on. He went to pour himself a cup of coffee, only to find a steaming mug pressed into his hand and himself ushered to the seat at the head of the table. Someone else proffered a bowl, which he refused.

"Maybe later." He sipped the coffee and closed his eyes as the hum of conversation started up again. He was sitting in what had been his father's place, in Belle's kitchen, surrounded by people who didn't know whether to bow to him or stab him in the back. Taking another mouthful of his drink, he allowed himself an actual smile this time. Whatever else, at least he wouldn't get bored.

The distinctive perfume wafting from the next seat down meant that Gambit didn't even need to open his eyes to know its occupant.

"Bonjour, Mercy, ça va?"

"Not too bad. Y'self?"

"Better f'r de coffee." Gambit opened his eyes to look at his sister-in-law. Since Henri's death she'd seemed to have a constant anger at the world, glaring out at it from behind her beautiful blue eyes. He had hoped that the unification of the Guilds would soften her, force her to work for something outside herself and maybe ease her bitterness. Judging by the narrowed look she was giving him, he had miscalculated.

She bore with his scrutiny for a few minutes then tossed her hair and looked down at her cereal.

"I'm not goin' t'apologise for yesterday, just in case you were wond'ring."

"Good. Neither am I."

She turned on him with such fire in her eyes that he gave her a warning glare. This was neither the time nor the place for that kind of discussion. It was bad enough the newly unified Guild trying to tear itself apart without their having a family row at the breakfast table.

She accepted the warning and turned back to her breakfast. He was about to make a mollifying comment, if he could think of one, when Lapin came in. For all his joking and play, he was as sensitive to atmosphere as any good thief should be and you could have cut the one in the kitchen and served it up with breakfast. Gambit was immensely grateful when he responded with even more foolery than usual. He juggled a few eggs at the young man at the cooker, who snatched at them, breaking one. He teased the other apprentice for the night before (some kind of in-joke involving an alligator, a girl and a pogo stick. Gambit decided there were some things he was better off not knowing.) He even ruffled Gambit's hair before taking his own seat opposite Mercy. Peering at his cousin, he whistled softly.

"You're really not a morning person, are you?"

"I ever mention how much I hate people who are?"

"Nope, an' it's too late now." Lapin turned his attention to his plate, eating with a hearty appetite. Gambit looked away in time to see Rogue and Storm come in together, escorting Louisa between them; apparently they had decided there was safety in numbers. Some of the tension that had bled away with Lapin's antics returned with them. Coming to the rescue again, Lapin waved at them with his fork.

"Bonjour, ladies. Grab what you want – it's pretty much a free for all in the mornings."

Someone else pointed Rogue in the direction of the coffee pot. She poured herself a cup and took a sip. Gambit grinned at her grimace.

"Too strong for you?"

"Not hardly. It's gone cold, tastes like Mississippi water."

"Full of nutrients and fibre."

"An' dead animals." She shuddered and went to put a new pot on when Louisa stopped her.

"No need to waste good coffee. Or what used to be good coffee." She set the pot on the worktop and wrapped her hands around it. The others watched her in silence for a moment, then Lapin, no better at quiet than Gambit was, leant over to his cousin.

"You think she's communing wit' dose dead animals your girl was talkin' about?"

Gambit shook his head and gestured with his teaspoon. A thin tendril of steam was rising from the coffee and a familiar aroma was filling the kitchen. Louisa moved her hands away from the pot and opened her eyes.

"Try it now."

Rogue took another, more tentative sip of the coffee and raised her eyebrows.

"Almost tastes like coffee now. Thanks."

As the girl took the seat next to his, Lapin asked,

"How long you been able t'do that?"

"Pretty much always. It's not hard as long as you don't move the coffee molecules too fast."

"What happens if you do?" He asked.

"It tends to explode when you break the surface tension." She told him

"No, Emil." Gambit said, without even turning to look at the other man.

"Did I say anything? Although you've got t'admit it'd be a great practical-"

"No, Emil." It was Mercy who cut him short this time, pausing between mouthfuls of cereal.

Lapin's magic was still working and the kitchen noise levels rose to a normal level again. Someone asked Louisa what else she could do and Gambit prayed she wouldn't mention diamonds or didn't think he'd ever get her out of the kitchen again. For her part, she paused before answering, clearly with too much sense to tell a room full of thieves that she could produce unlimited wealth.

"I guess I can do pretty much anything that involves moving molecules around. Heat things up, cool them down, sharpen pencils, mend things."

"All kinds of things?"

"As far as I know. I can see where the join should be and make the atoms link back together again. I don't know how to explain it any better than that."

"And sharpening pencils as well." Lapin was mock-thoughtful. "Rem, we must have an opening for that somewhere in de Guild."

"I'll take it under advisement."

One by one, Thieves, Assassins and clan heads wandered from of the breakfast room, leaving Gambit alone with Rogue, Storm and Louisa. He was grateful to Mercy who grabbed Lapin warmly by the ear and dragged him out. He loved his cousin dearly but there was such a thing as too much of his company when he was in one of his playful moods. Once they were alone, Gambit subjected Louisa to a close scrutiny which she bore without comment. There were dark circles under her eyes and her shoulders were slumped forward. She'd put on a good show for the crowd, and now they were gone she took the chance to relax a little.

Rogue seemed to have noticed this as well.

"You ok, sugah?"

"Didn't get much sleep. I never do when I move about. I can't just turn off my senses so I'm always aware of what's around me. Until I get used to new surroundings it makes me a bit unsettled. I'll be fine."

"Any after effects from yesterday?"

"None that I can tell, apart from that headache which is hanging on something fierce. I took more aspirin so that should kick in soon."

"Can' you jus' use your powers to, I don' know," Rogue waved a hand, "make it go away."

"I try not to use my powers on myself when I can avoid it, particularly not inside myself. I changed my appearance and it took me three weeks and a world of agony. I haven't worked out exactly what part of the mind controls pain and I'm scared I'll move the wrong bit. So moving my own cells about was not pleasant. I'm not Jake."

At the mention of her cousin, she seemed to sink further, swirling the dregs of her coffee. Glancing at the others, Gambit changed the subject.

"You ever had any kind of trainin'? Wit' your powers I mean."

"I learned how not to use them, if that's what you mean. I had to learn to control myself all the time or my mind couldn't cope with all the information."

"How'd you managed when they first emerged?"

"Uncle Jacob." Gambit cursed silently for bringing them back to her family again. She coped better this time, and only the dull note in her voice indicated that she'd rather not be talking about this. "He found a telepath to pull me out and shut off my powers at first. Then she helped me to use them properly, at a level I could manage."

"Given what you've been doin' over de past coupla days, I'd say it was time t'look into a bit more than that. Get better control an' you might be surprised at what you can do."

Storm also nodded.

"I do not believe we can do anything until we hear from Sage and Bishop, so we might profitably spend the time in exploring some possibilities."

When Louisa hesitated, Rogue added.

"S'alright, Storm's had lotsa practice at this trainin' lark. Ah warn you now though, don't mess with her. She's one hard taskmaster."

"Thank you, Rogue." Storm, unperturbed as ever, turned back to Louisa. "It is up to you."

"I suppose it wouldn't hurt to try."

Whatever Gambit might have said to this less than enthusiastic response was lost as a faint siren began to wail. He had jumped almost to his feet when he realized it was coming from within the room. Storm smiled and reached into a pocket, ignoring the finger that he wagged at her.

"Not nice t'do that to a person, Stormy. Good job the others weren't around or you might've gotten lynched."

"I would have relied on you to protect me, Remy." She put the glasses on before he could answer. "Yes, Bishop."

The other end of the conversation was just beyond Gambit's hearing so he watched and waited while Storm nodded and made appropriate comments to the X-men in New York. Her face grew grave as the conversation went on and she was frowning as she took the glasses off again.

"Well?" Rogue asked.

Storm glanced at Louisa and weighed her words carefully before speaking.

"Bishop and Sage gained access last night to the office of Mr Gavin snr, hoping to learn something from his files."

"As good a place to start as any, Ah guess. Did they find anything?"

"Bishop did not know?"

"'Scuse me? How could he not know? How long did they try for?"

"They were there all night. Bishop does not know because it was Sage who went through all the files. Apparently they were written in some kind of code which she hoped to break."

"Hoped? She didn't manage it?"

"That is what Bishop was unsure of. He found her this morning unconscious and she has not yet woken up."

**New York**

_She sleeps a charmed sleep:  
Awake her not_

_Christina Rossetti, Dream Lord_

**Morning**

Bishop put down his glasses and met Neal's questioning gaze.

"That's all we can do for now. If there's no change in twelve hours, we'll have to contact the professor."

Neal's expression clouded over.

"That may not be an option. Haven't you seen the news?"

"Not yet. Why?"

For answer, Neal reached for the television remote. Over the weather forecast, he said,

"It's been coming up about every half hour or so. It's not good."

Bishop waited for the weather girl to finish predicting sunshine for the city – he could have done that by looking out of the window – and sat down as the anchor man came back on.

"The latest reports from Westchester suggest that the riot taking place at the Xavier School for Mutants shows no signs of abating."

Bishop watched the images of the battered school gates and walls, and heard the screams coming from inside. Finally, he looked at Neal.

"When did this start?"

"About 5am. Latest theory is that some kids pumped up on Rave got a bit carried away and don't know how to stop. Whatever happened, I don't think the Professor is going to be able to help. He hasn't been seen since this all started."

Bishop took a deep breath, considering all the options. It didn't take long.

"We've no choice then. We'll have to wait for her to find her own way out."

"And what about-?" Neal jerked his head towards the corner of the room. "You didn't say anything to Storm."

"Wasn't sure how to. I'll think of something when the time comes, but she's not going to be happy."

"Are you sure it was a good idea?"

"In the first place or not telling Storm?"

"Both, I guess."

"Excuse me." Their guest in the corner finally spoke up. "I'm sitting right here."

Bishop ignored this and answered Neal. "I didn't have much of a choice. And I wasn't sure who was listening in. I'll tell Storm when the time's right."

"You make me sound like an unpleasant disease." Courier tossed his hair and glared at Bishop.

"I agreed to bring you here. Period."

Agreed was perhaps too strong a term for it. Knowing full well that Courier could cause all kinds of problems if left to his own devices, Bishop had taken the only option left and brought him along.

"Well if you want to know what I think-"

Bishop was grateful, both that he didn't and that the statement was interrupted by a knock at the door

Both X-men froze.

"Who else knows we're here?"

"No-one. I know I wasn't followed." Bishop leant over to his jacket and pulled his gun out of the pocket. Neal clenched his fist so that it glowed.

The bigger man crossed to the door and leant to peer through the peephole. Tucking the gun into his waistband he opened the door.

"Let me guess, you must be Bishop."

The speaker was slim and not too tall, with brown sandy hair and brown eyes. He was wearing jeans and a polo neck, managing to seem both business like and casual at the same time. He was holding a satchel in his left hand and extended his right towards Bishop.

"And you are?"

"David Matthews." The friendly smile faded and the hand dropped. "Remy didn't warn you I was coming?"

"No."

The obvious hostility had no visible effect.

"Never mind then." He held out his hand again. "I'm David Matthews, from the New York Thieves Guild. Remy asked me to do some digging for him."

"Right." Bishop didn't even try to hide his scepticism. Still unworried, David shrugged, and a card appeared in his outstretched hand.

"Remy gave me this."

Bishop took it and look closely at it. It did look like it had come from one of Gambit's deck and, although he couldn't swear to it, he thought it was probably Gambit's handwriting.

"This has only got a number on it."

David looked hurt. "Please. Would you trust a Thief who couldn't find your address just from that?"

Bishop rolled his eyes. This was why, on occasions, he really hated Gambit. The card was probably enough proof, and his instinct was telling him the guy was straight as far as it went.

"You'd better come in."

As the smaller man entered, Bishop knew instantly he was right. Despite his harmless appearance, everything about him set off the policeman's instincts. The way he moved, the way he looked round the flat and even the way he held himself rang alarm bells in Bishop's mind. Suppressing that instinct, reminding himself that on this occasion knowing a thief was not a bad thing, he introduced Neal.

"And this is?"

"Jackie." Courier held out a hand and met David's eye, challenging him to ask more. Showing no outward interest, David shook the hand and his friendly smile reappeared.

"Jackie? As in Jackie Gavin? If I'd known I could go straight to the source, I could've saved myself a lot of time."

"You know me?" Jackie asked.

"The day I don't know something that happens in this town, worry."

"And what do you mean, straight to the source?" Bishop wanted to know.

"Maybe I should just start from the beginning and Jackie here can chip in if necessary."

Bishop asked him to wait and had Heather come down off the roof. She was using the image inducer, so she wouldn't alarm their visitors too much, although Bishop wasn't sure that even a six foot tall golden Shi'ar could ruffle the Thief's calm.

David had made himself comfortable at the desk and began pulling papers out of his satchel as he spoke.

"Gambit asked me to look into some people for him. We got nothing on Louisa Gavin. Jacob junior" he gave Courier an acknowledging nod, "we know a little about. A high class courier, possible mutant powers, able to get pretty much anything anywhere if you're willing to pay enough. No contact with the New York Guild, although we heard rumours about him and the New Orleans one. Scalphunter we know even less. Just the name really, no details. Only an 'avoid on sight' command on the file. Jacob senior? We've got this," he passed a thick brown file to Bishop "and this." He held up a disc.

"The legend goes that Jacob Gavin started out as a mailman forty years ago. Within ten years he had his own courier business in New York. Within fifteen, it covered the US and twenty years ago, he went global. A lot of what the Guild does involves getting things from one place to another without being spotted, so we kept a close eye on him. He specialises in the grey areas. Things that aren't exactly illegal, but that aren't exactly legit, either, know what I mean? He's pretty private, only deals with elite men and companies, and has a reputation for honour and secrecy. You tell him your secrets, they go no further, but you'd better hope you're not doing anything he doesn't like, cos he has ways of dealing with that too."

"Fair but ruthless?"

"Not exactly. We don't know of him actually taking anyone out or anything like that. Some people's names might happen to find their way across a certain detective's desk or a business might find all their partners suddenly stop talking to them. We have dealings with him every couple of months. Taking cases he won't touch or the odd bit of industrial espionage."

"In the courier business? You're kidding."

"Not at all. There's big money in it if you know where to look. In the last few years, we think he's been specialising in more tricky packages."

"What kind of packages."

"The kind that walk on two legs and have a tendency to talk when they've had one beer too many."

"People trafficking?" Bishop's eyes narrowed. "I thought you said he wouldn't touch that kind of thing."

"We're not talking about bringing Mexicans over the border or shipping people in for extortionate sums of money. I'm talking about individuals who want to relocate without anyone knowing they're relocating. At first we thought it was just people trying to leave their pasts behind or make a fresh start or just hide until the statute of limitations runs out. We've got a list of people who've travelled with him over the last 2 years. Once the list hit 200 we got suspicious. A friend of mine went digging a little deeper. Turns out most of the people on the list had very good reason to hide. We think most of them are mutants."

Bishop sat back, only keeping surprise from his face with an effort.

"What makes you think that?"

David was too good to flinch. Instead he shook his head.

"We have our evidence. You're not getting more than that, sorry."

Bishop considered. The implications of Gavin shipping mutants were making his head spin.

"Where did he take them?"

"All over. Some into the country, some out, some across. There's no pattern or suggestion that they're gathering anywhere in particular. He's not trying to set up a mutant colony if that's what you're thinking. We actually helped some of them at his request. Gave them new identities and such like. Most of them just seem to have wanted to live somewhere else as someone else without anyone else knowing about it. That's the lot unless you want to fill in any gaps for us."

All eyes turned to Courier, who waited a long moment before speaking.

"You already know most of it. I knew Dad was involved with the mutant underground to some degree. I helped with moving some people and did the scouting work for others. I'd no idea it went so far, though."

Bishop, recording the contents of the file for Sage, looked up at this.

"Are you sure? I don't want to find out later something that had conveniently slipped your mind."

"'_It may harm your defence if you do not mention'_, kind of thing? I've told all I know. I've helped Dad relocate about six mutant families in the past year. I don't tend to get very involved in that side of the business."

"Alright." Bishop closed the file and handed it back to David. "Thanks for your help."

"No problem." David put the file back and got up to leave.

"If you don't mind my asking, why are you being so helpful? I expected the Guild to be more protective of its secrets."

"It is." For the first time, Bishop thought he had managed to break the man's cool. "If the Guild master knew what I was doing, he would not be a happy bunny. But I owe Gambit."

"And this settles the debt?"

David laughed. "Not even close. It's more of a down payment."

"That big, huh?"

"Bigger."

Giving in, Bishop held out his hand. "Well I'll be sure and tell him how helpful you've been."

"You do that. And if you need anything, just call." He produced a card from an inside pocket – Bishop was grateful he didn't use the appearing card trick again – and passed it to Bishop before shaking his hand.

When he was gone, Neal shook his head.

"You know, this just keeps getting more confusing. Someone who owes Gambit so much that he's willing to go behind the backs of his own Guild to help him, a man smuggling mutants all over the world, just to give them a new life, and a girl so powerful that Sinister sends his best for her, only to find that she can't even control what she's doing." He rubbed his face. "Jump in with an explanation any time."

"Wish I could. Right now, our best bet is to wait until Sage wakes up and let her match what's in her head to what we already know from this. Hopefully then we'll have a better idea of what's happening."

"That's it? That's the grand plan? We wait and see?"

"If you think of anything better let me know."

"I really hate to ask this," Heather spoke for the first time, "but is there any point my going in to her?"

"I don't think so. She's not in trouble this time. Her memory's just too full, that's all. Until she can process the information, she's shut down everything else. She'll come back to us given time."

"I guess I'll go make coffee then." Heather wandered out into the kitchen, joined by Courier and he could hear the two of them talking in low voices

"You do that." Bishop sat down at the desk and dropped the disk into the computer. He could sense Neal staring at his back and resisted the temptation to turn round. Eventually he heard the door open and close behind him. He knew that Neal had been waiting for a brilliant plan or at least some plan of action. Instead, he was coming up blank. Without more information, they were stuck again. Pushing his frustration aside, he decided to see what he could do with what they knew so far. It wasn't a lot, but it was all they had.

**New Orleans**

_And life is Colour and Warmth and Light,  
a__nd a striving evermore for these;  
__And he is dead who will not fight,  
__And who dies fighting has increase._

_Into Battle_ by Julian Grenfell

It might have just been the blood rushing to his head, but Gambit always found that he thought better upside down. Combined with the physical exertion, he could focus much more clearly.

The gym below the Guildhouse was well-equipped, with everything either Guild could have wanted. It was large enough to have a full scale sprung floor, as well as all the usual gymnastic apparatus. Unable to face the breakfast table again, he had decided mindless physical exertion might help.

He'd started on the floor to warm up; tumbling had always come easily to him, and after a few lazy combinations he'd decided that it was actually too easy and so he moved to the pommel horse. He swung himself up and round, settling into a comfortable rhythm. Finally he pushed up into a handstand, shifting his shoulders to balance. He fixed his eyes on a point on the horse below him, focussing so completely that the rest of the room began to fade away. He had always known that he was better at this than his peers, faster and more agile, and it was only later that jealous tongues had suggested that it might have something to do with his powers. In truth, he thought it was probably more of a natural gift than an extra power – he'd met people who were far more talented than him. Through a combination of training and necessity he'd honed those skills to a greater degree than most, although he was out of practice at the moment.

Despite the fact that it was unwise to get too distracted his position, a stray thought made him smile. The last time he'd pushed himself like this it had been out at the boathouse at the mansion, wondering whether Rogue could ever forgive him. She'd always been able to turn his head, but this was ridiculous.

Sensing movement, he ducked his head to look between his arms. Unmistakable, even upside-down, Belladonna was watching him. She put her head on one side and he resisted the urge to copy her. Instead, he looked down again to regain his balance and gradually lifted his left hand, lowering his leg to counterbalance. He heard Belle moving again and had to make an effort not to look round as she appeared in his peripheral vision.

"You really need the work out, or are you just hidin' from Theoren? I heard he threatened you with paperwork."

The handstand dipped a little but he managed to lock out his elbow before he fell. His feet waved around as he steadied himself.

Belle tried again.

"The clans have called a conclave for tonight – I hope you're ready."

He was ready for her this time and remained rock steady. Apparently oblivious, he lowered his hand and lifted the other one, adjusting for the new position. She shrugged and moved back out of his vision.

"I'm impressed." He felt the horse under him shift minutely and risked a glance. She was leaning on the end, just watching him as though he were a particularly interesting lab specimen.

Still resisting the temptation to look or reply, he focussed on the brown suede of the horse. He was so focussed that he almost missed the small silver bolt flying across the gym towards him. Instinctively he brought his free hand down and pushed up and out of the way as the missile flew through the space where he had been. As he somersaulted over it, he put out a hand and plucked it out of mid-air. The movement threw his balance off and he landed with a jolt. This turned out to be a good thing as it made him fling his arms wide to steady himself, which meant that the extending end of the bo-staff missed his ear instead of catching him on the side of his head.

When he had recovered enough to glare at Belle, he saw that she too was holding a staff. She tipped one end towards the practice floor.

"It's been a while. Fancy your chances?"

He considered for a moment before coming round the horse to join her. Belle was as quick as him and just as skilled both with and without weapons. All that meant was that it would be a fair fight and it might even be fun.

They saluted and began to circle, making experimental feints and touches to see how the other would react. Belle was quicker than he remembered, the years of training and experience showing as she warded off both the obvious and less obvious strikes. They danced round for a while, getting the other's reach and measure. Gambit worked out that they last fought like this, just for fun without any lives depending on them, when he was eighteen years old. It felt good to be back.

"That was some stunt you pulled on me yesterday, you know that?"

"Sorry." He pushed her back and resumed his defensive stance. "There wasn't time to warn you."

"About what? Your plans to rip my life apart?"

Gambit frowned and ducked in time to miss a swipe at his head. He returned it by sweeping his own staff towards Belle's feet. She took the bait by jumping, so that Gambit's upswing would have caught her on the way back down if she hadn't turned her leap into a back somersault. She landed and grinned at him.

"What are you talking about?" He asked, starting to move carefully towards her.

"Your grand scheme to obliterate all traces of the Assassin's Guild from New Orleans. Or is it the world?"

"There is no Assassin's Guild now, any more than there's a Thieves' Guild. We're all supposed to be one big happy family, remember?"

"With you as our loving patriarch? Spare me. You have to earn the right to come in and do things like that, Remy."

"I already have."

His voice was harsher now as he moved within arm's reach. Instead of replying, she let loose a flurry of blows that made him step back again. Rallying, he pushed at her, concentrating on the fight before everything else. With two people as skilled as them, it would be a question of who made the first mistake rather than who landed the winning blow, and he was determined that she would blink first.

Belle retreated under his renewed attack, her eyes narrowed and hard. He remembered that this was not her favourite weapon. The only way to kill was with a brutal blow rather than the elegant stoke that had always been Belle's style. Not that she wasn't one of the best he'd ever met, but he didn't think she was better than him. Of course if she beat him, he might have to revise that opinion.

Finally he managed to force her off the sprung floor, the slight slope making her stumble a little. He tried to press home the advantage, only to have her scramble out of his reach. He drove her on until she had her back to the pommel horse. Their staves locked and he brought his face close to hers.

"You remember that whole thing we went through with 'oui's and 'non's? And me nearly getting my head cut off by that damn Neo? I thought we settled it then."

"Think again. You went off again, didn't you? Oh, we're happy to have you here, don't get me wrong, but you're supposed to back us up, not tear us apart."

"That's what I'm trying to do!"

"You could have fooled me. You may not think much of us, but we're part of this Guild too. And we're assassins, Remy. It's all we know how to be. And there are people out there prepared to pay us a lot of money to do what we do best. You're not tellin' me you never thought of this." When he didn't reply she pressed on, "We do what we have to do to survive. If we stop makin' our mark, it's not goin' to be long before everyone out there decides they don't need us anymore. And where will that leave us?" Her hand slipped down to cover his. "This is about survival. If we don' keep provin' our worth out there, sooner or later we're goin' t'die out. Thousands of years of history lost, because you suddenly have an attack of conscience?"

"Thousands of years of fightin' and feudin', killin' and maimin'. Is that really what you want t'leave behind us? We could really make somethin' of this Guild, really make a diff'rence. I don' want to turn my back on that jus' cos it upsets a few people. Even if they're assassins."

"We're going to be a bit more than upset. You're talkin' about destroyin' our way of life."

"I'm talkin' about makin' somethin' of our lives. We helped save the world, Belle. You're not tellin' me you didn't enjoy it jus' a little."

"Not the point. Remy, the Guild is not the X-men."

Their eyes locked and it was only because of this that Gambit was able to dodge her next blow. He caught the flicker in her eyes and pushed away so that her fist passed through air rather than into him. He rolled, coming to his feet a metre away. Belle leapt after him, bringing her staff down towards his head. He raised his in both hands and caught the blow, wincing as he pushed her off and got to his feet. His hand hadn't completely healed, despite Gris-Gris's foul smelling ointment, and Belle had deliberately angled her blow to impact on the bandaged cut. There was less humour in her eyes now, more a grim determination.

"I'm not tryin' t'make us into the X-men, but you gotta admit we got skills the world could use."

"So you're sayin' we should abandon millennia of tradition jus' so you get the warm glow of knowin' we played the hero? Sorry, Remy, it don't work like that."

"The Guild can' stay as it was, Belle. We gotta adapt or die."

"You're not talkin' about adaptin'. You're talking about suicide. An' I will not stand by an' let it happen."

"Stand aside or get run over, Belle. I won' let you trap us into some dyin' past for the sake of tradition. It's not worth it."

"It is to me."

They circled each other again, both aware that their friendly conversation had turned into a real fight. He also became aware of an audience on the sidelines, a small gathering watching in silence. If Belle beat him, here and now, in front of other Guild members, it would seriously harm his chances of being taken seriously at the conclave. Despite himself, he smiled. Combat had always been the way to settle differences in the Guilds. Deflecting a stab at his head and looking into Belle's grim expression, he knew he would have to win this the old fashioned way if he was going to have a chance for the future.

The realisation did wonders for his concentration. He didn't need to hold back, not with Belle, and he decided he could do with the release. Stepping into range again, he swung his staff up to meet hers. She blocked but was forced back by the strength of the blow. He readjusted his grip and continued to rain down strikes, forcing her to reatreat. Neither of them were managing to actually land any hits, and Gambit kept his focus on Belle's eyes, trusting his instincts to keep off her staff. If he was going to win, he needed to know what she was thinking, not what she was doing.

Ducking, he remembered that she preferred to aim for the head, the assassins' way of ensuring a swift end. She was much happier with a knife in her hand and was using the staff as though it was a blunt sword. There had to be a way he could use that. An idea came to him, and he began to retreat towards the edge of the mats again. It might have worked except as he stepped off the floor a wave of nausea swept over him. He braced himself, knowing that Belle would take advantage of whatever had happened, but no blow came. Looking up, he saw that she had taken a step back, putting a hand to her head.

Louisa. Swearing under his breath, he caught his balance and began to run towards the door. His fingers brushed against the handle, when a sound behind him made him spin, dropping into a crouch. He felt a few splinters brush the back of his neck as Belle's knife hit the door roughly where his head would have been. She was standing in the centre of the gym, breathing hard and already holding another slim dagger.

"We're not finished here."

Gambit straightened up, not taking his eyes from her face.

"This is important, Belle."

"So's this. You're hardly qualified to help her, anyway." She kicked her staff to one side and began tossing the knife from hand to hand.

Looking around, Gambit knew she was right. If he didn't finish this now, any chance he might have had to lead these people would be gone. Bending down, he retrieved his staff and came to face her. Belle armed with his favourite weapon was one thing; Belle armed with her own favourite weapon was quite another. He saluted her again and stepped back, his guard up.

Her first two feints were obvious, designed to calculate speed and reach rather than do damage. He responded with a few jabs of his own, making her flinch away without really doing any harm. On the third try her blade contacted the staff, pulling away before he could take advantage of the fact. He had a height advantage, and the staff would reach further than her knife, but he also knew that if she got inside his guard, he might as well cut his throat himself. He hoped she would opt for humiliation rather than actually killing him, although judging by the fire in her eyes, he couldn't take any chances.

To the observers, it must have seemed as though they were dancing, each move perfectly choreographed and executed. They knew each other far too well to be fooled and had been trained too well to show a crack in their defence. They drew closer together, kicks and punches coming into play as well as their weapons, and it was Gambit who pulled away first, shaking his hand out.

First blood to Belladonna.

From a distance, it was hard to tell how bad the injury was; watching them engage again you wouldn't have known it existed at all, apart from the few drops of blood that had fallen onto the mats. Gambit's own face had become hard with concentration and there was no sound except the ring of steel on adamantium and the occasional grunt of effort. Neither turned as the door opened and Storm slipped into the room. She made her way almost silently to the group of spectators and whispered to Theoren, standing in the front row. He shook his head.

"They have to finish this, or Remy'll lose everythin'."

Storm nodded and joined him in watching the fight. Gambit was on the attack, forcing Belle to retreat or risk a numbing blow to her hands or head. This time she was ready for the manoeuvre and stepped neatly down the slope from the sprung floor to the wooden boards. They were moving towards the parallel bars, and as the crowd shifted round to get a better view, Storm's eyes narrowed. She had an idea of what Gambit was planning.

Belle ducked under the first bar, knowing the apparatus interfered far worse with a staff than with a knife. She made a sweeping blow that made him jump backwards and she took advantage of the space to duck under the other bar. To follow her, Gambit had to stand between the two bars, limiting his movements. He couldn't swing his staff fast enough, and Belle saw her chance. It was a risk to commit herself, but it was the only chance she was going to get. She drew back her hand and thrust her dagger up and under the bar towards Gambit's unprotected throat.

The crowd gasped, although the combatants didn't seem to notice. Faster than she would have though possible, Gambit's staff also swung upwards, catching her hand before it got near him and driving the knife point first into the underside of the bar. Before she could recover, he lashed out and swept her feet from under her. She looked up into the end of his staff.

"Bang. You dead."

He made it all the way to the top of the stairs before the next wave hit him. Stumbling a little, he hurried down the corridor to Louisa's room. Outside her door he found Rogue kneeling over Storm who looked to be out cold. Rogue looked up at him, relief in her face.

"She's ok, just knocked out."

"What happened?" He crouched beside them, just about managing to keep his balance.

"They were training. Storm was using the wind to blow things around the room and Louisa was reaching out to stop them. I think she musta been getting tired or Storm pushed too hard or something because next thing we know, Louisa's lettin' loose again."

"Like when we first found her. Storm's lucky to be alive." He got back to his feet and had to steady himself against the wall as the overwhelming force crashed into him. Rogue caught his hand.

"Be careful, Remy."

"You know me." He bent to kiss her fingers and gave them what he hoped was a reassuring squeeze. Then he pushed open the door to Louisa's room.

At first he wondered if the blast had done something to his eyes because the room was in almost total darkness. The next step and the light coming from the corridor reassured him that it was the room, not him. The shutters and curtains had been pulled tight shut and a crunch underfoot suggested the bulb that should have been over head was now lying pieces on the floor. Waiting a moment as his eyes adjusted to the gloom, he tried to see what else had been broken. There was no other obvious damage apart from an overturned table in one corner and the shattered remains of the vase that had been standing on it. What worried him was that there was no sign of Louisa. As he stood no chance of seeing her, he closed his eyes, focusing on what he couldn't see. After a moment, he turned and took two steps across the room, hunkering down beside a big old armchair. From behind it he could hear faint gulping sounds of someone trying to breath quickly and quietly at the same time.

"Louisa?"

There was a break in the sobbing, then it began again. Ever so gently, Gambit pushed the chair to one side. Behind it, Louisa was curled up in the corner of the room, eyes closed and hands pressed to her head. Gambit began to reach out a hand to her, moving closer to hear what she was whispering. As he had done before, he put his hand first on her face, then moved it down to her neck and around her shoulders, drawing her to him. When she was in his arms, he bent his head down towards her, still only just able to make out what she was saying.

"Louisa? Can you hear me? You got t'come back to us, p'tite. You got t'trust us."

He caught her shoulders and pushed her upright, trying to make her look at him.

"I can't."

Hoping that she was responding to him not just talking to herself, Gambit put two fingers under her chin and lifted her face towards his.

"Can't do what?"

"Can't make it stop." She collapsed against him again and he patted her shoulder vaguely as his mind raced. Several things began to fall into place at once. Unfortunately, if he was right, Louisa was the only one who could help herself and she was hardly in a fit state to do that right now. Where was a telepath when you really needed one?

Outside in the corridor, Rogue helped Storm to sit up.

"How you doin'?"

"I have felt better. Is Louisa alright?"

"Remy's in with her. There's been no sound for a while so I'm gonna assume that everything's ok."

"I'll live." Both women jumped as Gambit appeared in the doorway. "Storm, could you go get Gris-Gris, Theoren and Belle? If you're up to it, I mean."

"I believe I will also live." Storm accepted Rogue's hand to help her up, carefully ignoring Gambit and Rogue's worried glances. Not long ago, it had been doubtful that Storm would ever stand again and however much she hated to admit it, she was a long way from 'better'. As they watched her walk away, Gambit shook his head.

"Ain't the time or the place for that talk. She'll just have t'manage for herself for now."

"I'll live too." The voice that came from the room was quiet but steady. Rogue came into the room to see Louisa sitting in the oversized armchair, head in her hands.

"Mind tellin' us what just happened?"

"Sinister's cleverer than we gave him credit for." Gambit answered. "Whatever he gave her to knock her out also knocked her control off balance. The trainin' wit' Storm only made it worse."

"And?"

"And what?" He gave her an innocent smile.

"Remy, I can always tell when you've got an 'and'. And what?"

"And it's possible that it was made even worse by someone givin' her more of whatever it was last night."

"Last night? Here in this house?"

"I'm pretty sure, yeah."

Rogue turned to Louisa. "An' you didn't notice."

"I can't turn my powers off." Louisa's voice was muffled by her hands. "To get to sleep, I have to shut down as much of my awareness as possible. It's like putting myself in a trance. I become oblivious to everything around me. And like I said at breakfast, I tend not pay too much attention to what's going on inside myself. Until he made me look." She gave Gambit a weak smile.

"So you just lost control?"

"I got scared. There was too much in my mind and I couldn't make it stop."

"I know that feeling." Rogue put a hand on Gambit's arm. "So you charmed her into getting control back? Didn't know you could do that."

"That's not it exactly, but I guess it's close enough."

"What about the whoever-he-is who drugged her last night?" Rogue asked

"He'll have to wait for now. Theoren's gon' ambush me the minute I step outside the door and I think she could use someone to talk to. An' I think you could help her."

Rogue nodded her understanding. She knew better than most what it was like having a whirlwind in your mind and she also knew how to stand calm and strong at the centre of the storm.

"I'll stay. Go play with your friends."

"Somehow I don' think fun is high on Theoren's agenda." He gave a mock shudder and kissed the top of her head. "Merci, chère. Dose who are about to die salute you."

He had been right about the ambush. Theoren had the decency to wait a ways down the corridor, half-hidden in a doorway. He fell into step as Gambit tried to stride past him.

"Remy. You got a coupla minutes?"

"Minutes or hours?"

"Up to you. Only there's lot of stuff I want to run past you."

"Awww, Theo, you know paper's never been my strong point. Lessin' it's green and bill shaped, o'course."

"Look on this as a chance t'improve."

Theoren's hand clamped on his shoulder and Gambit found himself escorted to his father's, no, _his_, study. Something told him it was going to be a long afternoon.

**New York**

Gambit wasn't the only one enduring rather than enjoying the late autumn sunshine. Bishop, Neal, Heather and Courier also spent the day surrounded by piles of information. Somehow, Bishop had thought it would be a good way to show solidarity with Sage. If she was having to wade through a sea of data, the least they could do was join her. Unfortunately, it left them all frustrated and cranky, even though Courier had been able to flesh out parts where the Thieves' files were bare.

At eight, Bishop decided it was time to call it a day. He flicked the news on, checking the latest on the riot. Pundits were speculating that it could run into a second or even third day, with all normal enforcement agencies powerless to act against a bunch of super powered school kids high on Rave. They were all so focused on the TV screen that it wasn't until a shadow fell over him that Bishop realized they weren't alone.

Sage looked like she could do with something stronger than the coffee she was cradling, preferring the caffeine to her usual glass of wine. She listened to their account of David's visit and only raised her head when he told her about the files the Thief had left them. She demanded to see them, despite everyone's objections, and spent the next hour flicking through it and the images Bishop had recorded, pausing only to sip her cooling coffee. The others could only watch in concern until she took off her glasses and met Bishop's eye.

"Well?" He asked.

"Well. As ever, there's good news and there's bad news. The good news is that I've now managed to decipher all of Jacob Gavin's files and crack eighty-five per cent of the code names. The bad news is what I've found out. And it means we need to be on the next flight to New Orleans."

"We as in all of us, or we as in you and Bishop?"

"All of us." Sage answered Neal's question without hesitating. "Gambit may not have wanted company, but he will when we tell him what we knew."

"Right now, you're the only one who knows anything."

"Of course." Some of her tiredness started to show again. "I'll tell you on the way."

Once they were safely in the car and Neal was speeding them to the airport, Bishop turned in his seat and fixed Sage with a expectant look. She ran her hands through her hair, trying to pull her thoughts together before answering. Then she reached into her pocked and produced her glasses.

"I would rather not have to repeat myself." She said by way of explanation and called through to Storm. Their leader answered almost at once, relieved that Sage's mind was in one piece and demanding to know what she knew.

"We were wrong to believe Louisa's story so completely." Sage began bluntly. "I found lengthy files detailing negotiation with the government for Louisa's protection. There were people interested in purchasing her services and several of them were quite persistent."

"How did they find out about her?"

"Gavin wasn't entirely sure. He suspected a governmental leak although he couldn't prove it. Reading between the lines and having an information advantage? About eighteen months ago, Louisa's powers went haywire, worse than when they first emerged. She could barely control them and Gavin was forced to hire the services of a telepath again to help her put her mind back together. Either the telepath let it leak or someone who's interested in mutants picked up on the increased activity. We know Sinister can track mutant powers and it is possible that he detected the flare. Either way, it started as a three horse race; Boston, Seattle and New Orleans."

"New Orleans!" Storm shook her head. "Wonderful. So this was the perfect place to bring her then."

"Exactly. Then the government stepped in and two of the others bowed out. Gavin didn't even consider the New Orleans crowd and struck the best deal he could get with the government."

"So he did sell her to them."

"Not exactly. They promised minimum interference in return for access to her. They also promised to help train her and pay a retainer."

"So he sold her." Bishop said again, earning him a sour look from Sage.

"A retainer which would be put into a trust fund, which Louisa would have access to at the age of twenty one. In addition to the money she'll get from her parent's will next month, that's a tidy sum. She could do whatever she wanted."

There was a moment's silence. Bishop didn't know whether to be pleased or more worried. He had felt Courier's sigh of relief that his father wasn't the villain of the piece. On the other hand, they had all assumed the worst and believed Louisa completely. By the look on Sage's face she was thinking the same thing. They saw enough of the underbelly of the world, the traffickers, the criminals, the power-hungry and the just plain crazy to assume the worst every time. Most of the time that didn't matter because they were right. This time it mattered a lot.

Storm nodded slowly.

"I think I can confirm that Louisa is definitely in danger down here." She told them of the incident of the afternoon.

Bishop whistled under his breath.

"You weren't kidding about the danger, were you?"

"There's more." Sage added. "I've got an address that Gavin suspected was the headquarters of the New Orleans bidders."

"If it's the Guildhouse, I may have to burn it to the ground myself." Storm didn't sound like she was joking.

"It's not. The address is in the French Quarter." Sage recited it for Storm.

"Gavin only suspected it was their location?"

"It was all a bit hazy on detail, which makes me suspect that Gambit may know more about this than we do."

"I'll ask him. You're on your way?"

"We should be in New Orleans about midnight your time." Sage told her.

"We'll arrange our own transportation." Bishop added.

"Understood. I'll tell Gambit to expect company." Storm said.

"You don't think he'll object to our invading their precious privacy?"

"He can object all he likes. Storm out."

Neal gave Bishop an amused glance in the mirror.

"Why do I get the feeling that Gambit is going to be lucky to get out of this in one piece? Storm sounded pretty ticked off."

"Rookie, where the cajun's concerned, we're all lucky to get out in one piece."

Despite Bishop's prophetic pronouncement, it was Gambit who won the first point. When they arrived at the desk to by their tickets, they found first-class seats to New Orleans were ready and waiting for them.

"How did he know?" Courier asked.

"Monsieur LeBeau wasn't able to specify the exact time of your flight," the girl explained, "nor exactly which passengers would be travelling. But he does have special privileges with the airline."

"Clearly." Bishop took the tickets and hurried everyone through to the plane. While they were queuing, Neal tapped him on the shoulder.

"You think Gambit will have arranged a limo for us at the other end?"

"Knowing his sense of humour, it will probably be a pick-up."

"I don't know." Heather looked again at the ticket in her hand. "If this is anything to go by, it'll be a limo and champagne."

Bishop disliked this kind of travel, being too used to advanced jets or mutant powered flight. The seats were always too small, the cabin too quiet and there was nothing to do on the way. So he was surprised to find himself with enough room, a comfortable seat and a complimentary drink in his hand. Sage accepted only water and, when the stewardess had gone, met his questioning gaze.

"Lucas, if you have a question, please ask it."

He studied her for a moment without speaking. She was even paler than usual, dark circles standing out under her eyes and a weariness in her usual controlled manner. Still, all things considered, she didn't look too bad.

"I have two questions actually. How are you really feeling and how on earth did you break that code?"

"I really am fine. Neither my body nor my mind are operating at peak efficiency it is true. There should be sufficient time on the flight to replenish both."

"And the code?"

"Are you sure you want to know?" His set expression told her that he did. "Fine.

"It was much harder than I had anticipated. Jacob Gavin senior is a remarkable man, with a remarkable memory. His files are, I suspect, more for occasional reference than regular use. The first thing he did was create a letter substitution code for all important details. Some files were written entirely in this code, others just have the occasional word. Breaking this code was relatively simple, despite his use of the more sophisticated version. Rather than regular shift, where each letter might be encoded as the next one or the fifth one from it, he chose the order at random so that cracking one letter does not give you the whole code. My best guess is that he has this code memorised. It would be far too risky to write it down anywhere. Then he has ordered the files in such a way as to make cracking them really difficult."

She paused to take a sip of water and Bishop noticed that some colour had come into her face with the explanation. He knew she loved this role and was interested enough to let her enjoy herself.

"I've never seen anything like this system. It is unique in my experience. No-one would think of it or be able crack it without doing what I did."

"And no-one else could do what you did, so he's pretty safe."

"No-one is a strong word, Lucas. Let's just say no-one we know of. The concept, like most truly brilliant ones, is very simple. Each file has a date in the top right-hand corner, the drawback being that it is written in words and encrypted with the same substitution code. So May Twelfth Nineteen-Twenty-Nine, which was the first relating to Louisa, is written as 'xfm ygtwayu jzjtyttj ygyjym jzjt'." She reeled off the letters as though they were the alphabet. "That's why I think he's got the code memorised. Otherwise the files would be too hard to find."

"I don't see how he can find them at all. And 1929?"

She smiled. "That's the really clever part. Each file has a day and a month assigned to it. Louisa's is May twelfth, which I think is her birthday. The earliest file of all went back to 1901 and none start later than 1935, but I think he just chooses the year at random. The second page of Louisa's file is dated 1930, the next 1931 and so on. Then he files all but the last page in date order by year month and day. The last page is kept in a single file, near the door, so that he can keep track of what year he's up to."

"That gives him 365 days to choose from." Bishop mused. "366 if you count leap years. He must have a good memory."

"Exceptional. He is up to 297 files so far, although I suspect he destroys ones that are no longer relevant. He probably also has all the code names written in a diary somewhere, telling him who belongs to each day and which code name is who. If written in his code, even if it fell into someone else's hands, they would not be able to make sense of it."

"Unless they're you."

"Quite. But it's not too remarkable a feat of memory to know more or less where nearly three hundred files are. What is remarkable is to find the boss knowing it rather than the secretary. As it happened, it was the date marking that proved to be the weak spot. I realised they must be identifying each file and dates were the logical conclusion. From there, it was much simpler."

"Much."

That earned him another smile. "The dates from January First Nineteen Oh-One onwards contain all the letters of the alphabet but three."

"Which three?"

"K, Q and Z" There was no hesitation in her answer.

Bishop laughed aloud and offered his glass to hers for a toast. After the obligatory clink and sip, he became serious, looking past her out of the window.

"Did the files give you any idea what to expect when we get there?"

"Not in detail. Between what I've already told you and the re-analysis of Louisa's story, that's it."

"Except?"

"Except our account of Louisa's powers may not have given her enough credit. We all based our assessment on what we could see. According to her file, she has to potential to be much more powerful. It is possible that she could create a chain reaction with catastrophic."

"So when you say more powerful, it's as is 'capable of destroying the world' powerful?"

"It would not be unreasonable to think that she could extend her powers to a worldwide scale."

"That would put her in the same category as Xavier."

"Yes."

"And Magneto."

"Yes."

"And Jean"

"Yes."

"And Storm."

"That is surmise only. Bishop, I am aware of those who fall into the category. Louisa is currently limited by age and experience."

"But given time and practice she could do more than just turn pencils into diamonds. I wonder if she knows."

"I do not see how she could not at least suspect. That episode eighteen months ago must have given her a clue. And for further demonstration, we need only ask Vertigo."

"I hadn't forgotten that."

"Good. Accident or not, she killed someone and she will have, she's got face that. She has to be made to understand the dangers that her powers could pose to herself and others."

"You intend to tell a strong-willed seventeen year old girl what she should do? You're braver than I thought. Now," he added before she could reply, "get some of that replenishment you said you needed. We're going to need you at one hundred percent when we land."

The moment for indignant replies having passed, Sage settled for a haughty silence instead. Turning her face to the window, she closed her eyes and when Bishop looked over a moment later, she was asleep. He resisted the temptation to tuck a blanket round her and smiled to himself. Even Sage managed to look peaceful and innocent like that, without the painful knowledge that you could see every time you looked in her deep blue eyes. Out of habit, he looked round to make a visual check on Neal and Heather, giggling together and trying out the comforts of first class travel, and Courier, staring unhappily out of the window. He was very aware of being part of a team, trusting people as he was not used to doing. It was not a comfortable feeling for someone who had grown up relying only on himself, but then that was what all the people on Storm's team had learnt. They weren't natural team players, any of them, but out of them, she had managed to form a group that could take on anything. That was what he was counting on.

**New Orleans**

"_Let me touch you for a while."_

_Alison Krauss_

Finally able to shut the door, Gambit also shut his eyes in the dark of his room and took in a deep, refreshing breath. He held it for a long moment, savouring the peace and solitude as snatches of the evening flashed through his mind.

_Belle's high laugh and witty comebacks over dinner._

_Lapin's latest joke that he couldn't be prevented from telling to everyone in the room._

_Mercy's serious tone as she discussed her concern for the new female apprentices._

_Gilbert Conrin, one of the clan head's challenge as to how much he thought the Guild would make this year._

_Genard Alouette wanting advice on the new security system protecting the painting he and Lapin were going to lift._

_Zoe telling him how her brother was doing at school._

Each flash was punctuated by Theoren's quiet, respectful and insistent, 'And now this one'. It seemed that each time he finished with one piece of paper, another was waiting for him.

'_And now this one.'_

There were clan members and Guild members to be soothed, encouraged or disciplined.

'_And now this one.'_

Through it all there was the vague worry about Louisa. Had they done enough to protect her? They'd already put plans in place to get her out of the country and hopefully to safety, at least in the short term. It was ironic, thought Gambit, that the Acadians had been kicked out of Canada to settle in Louisiana and here he was, a few centuries on, trying to send someone back. Nothing could be done on that front until the morning, though. He had no doubts that Louisa would protest at being 'shipped off' as she would no doubt see it. What she didn't know was that she was going, even if he had to bundle her in a blanket and carry her north himself.

He found the energy to pull off his shirt and glanced at the clock. Neither he nor Rogue had had a good night's sleep since their powers had starting flaring. It'd happened again during dinner and he'd been grateful for the roaring log fire in the dining room. The faint pop of his knife exploding would hopefully have been mistaken for a cracking log by most people.

As he stood under the spray of the shower, another of the evening's events drifted past his closed eyelids.

_Storm, grabbing him as he was leaving dinner, emotion showing in her usually pacific blue eyes, telling him that Sage and the other X-men were on their way. That would have led to another row with Belle if Gris-Gris hadn't stepped in. He said he had felt around and in the house, something dark and dangerous and waiting to strike. He didn't like having so many X-men in their home either, he told Belle, but, like Gambit, he could sense that it was the right decision. Sure that he would have fallen over, Gambit was suddenly grateful that he was already sitting down._

_Storm speaking to him privately afterwards, telling him of Sage's full findings and the address that had come up. Gambit hid most of his surprise, only confirming that he knew the address. Despite the street name, he knew it was in the Garden District rather than the Vieux Carrier and he wasn't about to admit how he knew that. Storm wasn't convinced but had acceded to his request for secrecy. The warning glare she gave him before leaving worried him a little and he kept expecting to walk into a rain cloud round the next corner._

He stepped out of the shower, wrapped a towel around his waist and picked up the pile of discarded clothes. As he did so, a small box fell from a pocket. He bent to pick it up, another memory washing over him as his fingers wrapped around the black cube.

_Mercy, unsure and determined at the same time, cornering him as he had headed for the stairs and sanctuary in his room. She held something out to him, pressing it into his hand. He knew what it was before he opened it and started to shake his head. The fire flared in her eyes and she raised her chin defiantly._

"_Take it."_

"_Mercy, I can't. It's yours, Henri-"_

"_Would have wanted you to have it. If you ever decide to make an honest woman of that girl of yours, you'll need it. I'm through with all of that. It should belong to someone who's got a use for it."_

Now he dumped the pile of clothes on his bed and sat next to them, cradling the box in his hand. It was stupid to be scared of it and he forced his breathing to deepen and his heartbeat to slow before he flipped up the lid.

Although the ring inside appeared to be silver, it glowed with a burnished light that told him it was platinum. Besides, it had belonged to Jean-Luc's grandmother and gold wasn't durable enough to last 250 years of constant wear. Mercy had taken it off the day after Henri died, swearing never to wear it again. He'd always assumed she'd change her mind yet now it was his. It was strange, he had the ring, he had the woman, he had the reason. All he needed now was the courage. What was the Shakespeare line? _'To bind me or undo me, one of the two'_. Much Ado About Nothing, he thought, or maybe Comedy of Errors. He'd read the whole works at one time, more to see if he could than out of actual interest. The main things he'd learnt were that comedies always ended with a wedding while tragedies ended with everyone dead. He'd also learnt that _'the course of true love never did run smooth'_, although he'd found it little comfort. As long as his own drama had a happy ending, he thought he'd cope. Maybe not with a wedding, not yet anyway, but sitting in the semi-dark, watching the glint of the ring in its black velvet case, he couldn't help admitting that there were definite possibilities.

Footsteps in the corridor jerked him out of his reverie and he acted quickly, stowing the ring in a bedside drawer for now. He was already behind the door when his visitor knocked and he pulled it open to find Storm waiting for him. He'd been expecting Theoren, wanting to follow up on something that was said at dinner and was relieved to find there was nothing more to be signed. The smile that played on Storm's lips suggested that she had expected to find him a little more dressed than this. Ever the gentleman, he gestured for her to enter, making sure he was well out arm's reach as she did so. He wasn't embarrassed in front of her, knowing her and her rather relaxed attitude to clothing too well. Rather, her half smile suggested mischief as well as revenge and he wanted to avoid the obvious risk. Once inside, she ran her eyes round the room, assessing the bookcases, ornaments and paintings. It was a little unnerving to watch her summing up his life in the exact manner he had taught her, so he cleared his throat significantly.

Storm seemed to remember herself and turned to look at him.

"I came to let you know that Zoë has offered to drive me to the airport. Although in theory we do not require transportation, I thought it best to accept."

"You did the right thing. The more we can get the Guild to play nice with the X-men, the better. Just make sure you take a car big enough to fit Bishop in."

"I'll remember." She was assessing him now, just as she had done the room. A crease formed on her smooth forehead as she stepped forward and ran her fingers lightly over the line where his scar had been.

"I got one on the back to match if you wanna see." He caught her hand and held it away from him. "What you thinking, Stormy?"

"How fortunate we are that Rogue is so stubborn. That I nearly lost my best friend. That unless you are very careful, I will find a way to make you stop using that name ever again."

A faint breeze blew through the room, flapping the bottom of his towel.

"Play fair, chère. That means no powers."

"Who said it was her?" The voice came from the window where Belladonna perched, watching the couple inside.

Still unruffled, Storm leant and kissed Gambit's cheek.

"We will see you later." Then with a respectful nod to Belle, she was gone.

"Does she often come round when you're only wearing a towel?"

"No more than you do."

With her usual grace, Belle climbed into the room and wandered round it, much as Storm had done. Gambit maintained the same cool exterior as he watched her. Belle had seen him in less than a bath towel before now and there didn't seem much point in getting worried about it. When she was done with the room, she too turned her eyes to him, her gaze drawn to the spot that Storm had touched. Tiring of the inspections, Gambit waved a hand at her, deliberately holding it at head height.

"Hello? Belle, chèrie, I'm up here. And I thought it was men who didn't look you in the eye first."

She smiled up at him, unembarrassed.

"Was there something you wanted, or did you just drop in for the view?" He asked, knowing by her expression and the way she turned from him that he had used the wrong tone. For all their fighting, his feelings for her were still strong. Not the passionate love they had once shared, it was true, but there was too long a history between them for him to feel nothing. He was about to say something to make up for it when she got in first.

"I just came to say that if you don't want to stay after the conclave, I understand. It might even be better that way."

Feeling he had missed a whole chunk of conversation, Gambit blinked in confusion.

"What I mean," she went on, " is that what I said earlier about the Guild not needing a hands on Guild master? It's true whether I lost the fight or not. Theo and me can handle things from day to day."

"And me?"

"Stay in touch. Go on with your double life. Send clients our way. I know you believe in the X-men, that what they're doing is worth it. So go out and prove it to us."

"And take Rogue with me?"

"That'd be a good start." The words were out before she realised. Her mouth snapped shut as though she could bite the words back and she glared at him. "Play fair. No powers, remember?" Showing what she thought of his innocent 'who me?' look, she turned away again. "I thought I was going to cope. Seeing her again and seeing you. Seeing you both. Maybe I'm just not a big enough person. I don't care much. So yes, when you and she are gone, it'll make my life much easier."

Gambit held himself in check as she spoke. He could flirt and play all he liked with Storm without fear or hesitation, both of them enjoying the game and knowing its rules. To do that with Belle might prove fatal. Instead he took a deep breath and a step towards her.

"I never meant to hurt you and you know it. And once we've got Louisa safely out of the way, I'll be gone too. But there's someone at work on the inside here, Belle. I can smell it and so can Gris-Gris, else he wouldn't be so keen to have the X-men here."

"Do you know who?"

"A few suspicions and that's about it."

"When you find him, I'll kill him with my bare hands and I'll do it for free."

"Maybe, maybe not. What matters is getting proof. I'm hoping Sage and me can do that when she gets here. It'll mean letting her in on a few guild secrets, but I trust her not to tell."

This was the moment where it could all fall apart and Gambit almost held his breath. Finally, Belle nodded.

"Good enough for me."

"I also need to tell about _mon ami_ Bishop. He is, or was, or will be, a cop."

"Which?"

"It's always so hard to tell. Everyone'll spot it the minute he walks through the door and I didn't want you taken by surprise."

"Appreciated." Belle paused and he caught in her eye something that cut him to he core. Without thinking, he reached out a hand to her.

"Chère…"

"Don't, ok? Just don't. I already said all I'm going to. Everything else is off-topic. Whatever else you got to say, or think you got to say, just leave it. What I'm feeling is my business, not yours, until I say otherwise."

"I know." He let his hand fall to his side and they stood for a long moment, just looking at each other. The seconds ticked by as they locked gazes and the years passed between them. He remembered her as a cute, pigtailed girl; a sultry, sexy adolescent; a troubled, tortured soul; and now a strong, beautiful woman. The pain in her eyes burnt away, replaced by the determination he always associated with her. This determination made her break the contact and head back towards the window. As she put one foot on the sill, she looked over her shoulder at him. This time, he got in first. Raising a hand to his lips, he blew her a kiss.

"Merci, mon amie."

This might or might not have been a good idea. He had no chance to find out because she was gone before he had finished speaking. The curtains flapped in the breeze as did the towel around his waist, reminding him of more prosaic matters.

The bundle of clothes on the bed got scooped up and each garment laid neatly over a chair. It was a habit so ingrained that he hadn't even realised he did it, until Rogue had watched him lay out first his, then her cloths and commented that he'd make someone a fine housewife some day. He'd explained that it was something all Thieves and possibly Assassins did. If you had to make a quick getaway, you didn't want to be fumbling around for your clothes. Those precious seconds could cost you your take or your life. Now, the routine helped to calm him and he decided a few hours sleep would be a good idea. Tomorrow was going to be a long day and he wanted to get a head start.

He'd actually untucked the corner of the towel when there was another knock at the door. Deciding that someone was having far too much fun at his expense, he put his head back and closed his eyes.

"Come in."

His visitor opened the door and slipped almost noiselessly into the room. Without turning, he tucked the towel back in and asked.

"Qu'est-ce que c'est?"

"And here's me thinking you'd be glad to see me."

He spun to see Rogue standing by the door, hands behind her back and even more amused than Storm had been. She began to walk towards him, taking her time, hips swaying and fingers playing with her shirt buttons. The look she gave him would have made even most men blush.

"What you doing here, chère?" he managed to ask.

"You really asking me that?" She raised an eyebrow. Some of her archness fell away as she stopped just beyond his arm's reach and he could see something hidden in her eyes. "Louisa and me had a real long talk. She said that my powers got knocked out again when she rocked the house. They'll come back again but it'll be fourteen, maybe fifteen hours before they do."

"Oh? Oh." Only too aware that this was ridiculously inadequate, Gambit felt his own coolness fading away, pinned by her gaze. With most women, he could be glib and charming, even with Rogue under normal circumstances. Here and now, he couldn't think of a thing to say. Then she had closed the gap between them and somehow it didn't seem so important any more.


End file.
